Long story time thing

So, before I get into the purpose of this I have an update on some things.

First off, my parents are kinda going goin up n down in their relationship. They haven't fought in a while so that's pretty good. Told my mother to go to a psychologist, it's for the best. My friends? Yeah I'm not friends with some anymore, just s guy who they don't generally like. Boohoo the hell can I do? My ex. Well, I was called up by some friends of mine who know her, and informed me that she had finally asked someone out. Lol, it took her no time, just like I said. I've been lonely rn, some curvy Canadian tried to make me her friend with benefits, I said no. And works good, money's coming in and I'm feeling better.

Now, what I was gonna talk about my dad. He's a trouble but peaceful guy who rarely opens up, but he told me his life as a young teen and man. And damn, it was rough. (I'm gonna say it all xd)

So imagine this: 1985, the slums of  Guerrero Mexico. You've got low riders and Volkswagens, drugs and prostitutes. But most of all, gangs and poverty. My father he explains, came from a poor family, his dad was a drunkard and his mother struggled to get food on the table. They reaped whatever they could get, be it fruit trees or the neighbors loose hen. However, things got really hard when he was older, his uncle was shot point blank range and his grandfather was slaughtered. He ended up joining the local gangs and carjacking groups. He lived this lifestyle most of his youth, learning how to make homemade weapons, robbing vehicles and becoming really, REALLY good at street fights. While this definitely fed up his mind, he had one place to release his own anger and guilt in: the late night Street parties. Him and his buddies often arrived there; being popular with the ladies, he naturally was known for his skills in dancing to Cumbia and Wepa. Of course, given they were street parties, he carried a machete in case anything went down, something that often did. His life was basically work, sleep, and down to the slums. He still remembers the names of some of the rival gangs, Los Vaqueros, Los Chiflados, Los Payasos. All latín gangs with violent tactics. He was lucky to escape from that area alive and to the USA. Most of his friends and family involved in that life weren't as lucky. My eldest cousin was beat down and had his skull punctured by a shard of metal. He survived, but was left unable to speak or properly move. One of the gang head honchos he knew, El Chalo, was dismembered. Others he knew were gunned down or slaughtered. He lost 3 of his many fights, had his chest sliced several times (you can see his scar 30 years later) and had over 10+ guns aimed at him at the same time.

So yeah, that was what he told me. I had no idea he lived through all of that, like I said he rarely opens up. But damn, I definitely feel s greater sense of respect towards him now. Not that I didn't already, but I can tell he's gone through more than most modern day teenage Latino "gangsters" ever will.