They said
I was too much
and not enough
In the same breath.
I was born in Puerto Rico and raised on two languages, two ways of thinking, and one rule: you handle yours. I carried that to the Midwest, where I learned the coldest thing about a place is rarely the weather. Then California, where I finally stopped waiting for a room to make space for me.
Thirty years married. Children raised and grown. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, a run of jobs that taught me exactly what people will do when they think you won't say it out loud.
The fake friends. The rumors that traveled faster than the truth. The meetings I wasn't invited to about work I did. The slow, deliberate business of a group deciding you're the problem, and the exhaustion of proving every day that you are not.
I left. Every time, eventually, I left. Then I stopped leaving jobs and started building my own.
I turn real life into stories that make people think.
I don't rap for a deal. I rap because it happened, and because somebody reading this is in the middle of it right now and thinks they're losing their mind. You're not losing your mind. Here's the record.
