I Don’t Have A Name

I live in the shadows as some may. Never had a home, even from infancy my parents decided to die before they could even give me a name. The small town in the boring old orphanage I grew up in has no real sentimentality in my life. I grew up wanting to travel, meet people all over the world, taste different foods, and listen to the sweet sound of music. The only thing I have ever kept in my life was my mothers pendent. My parents didn’t have much in their life. Well, at least that’s what I was told. I am pretty sure the government took over all of their assets and left me with just one small trinket.

I have learned that from a very young age nothing is free, however, if you want something badly enough all you had do is hustle for it. Some may give you this ridiculous paradox that if you work hard enough maybe, just maybe, you can shoot for the stars. One piece of advice I would give is that if you ever come across anyone who says that to you run away as fast as you can. Now if you take anything from my story please remember what I write this in this very moment.

Work smart not hard, take always what you need and never what you want because that’s how you always get caught. I enjoy a little mischief, sipping on this exemplary wine, fooling the system, knowing in my heart as I sit on this balcony enjoying the transcendent view, there is no one on this earth that can stop me.

This article I write to you in the small-town newspaper is for you and you alone. My little black book, the only other possession I have from my childhood, I found it in pawn shop. I will be sending it to the editor’s office with this letter folded between the pages and all my dealings throughout the years. From there, keep on sending this until it has reached enough people to help.

I am choosing to retire myself from my shadow life. No one will ever find me for I do not exist. I of course have taken extra precautions before I go into the light and reemerge as whatever I choose to be.

The lessons that I have learned in the orphanage I have learned all on my own. Like every shiny brochure out there this building portrays a healthy environment for children to grow up in. For those who do not live under a rock or has lived through it we know differently. I started buying records at a very young age. I did my research and bought mint condition records and stored them in a plastic container that I hid in the forest at the edge of the property. I knew that one day to the right buyer they would be worth a good chunk of money. I hid them away because you cannot trust anyone. You cannot trust your peers, the government, or even the institution you are being raised in.

I am intelligent and keen with my surroundings. Some have compared me to Matilda, however, I preferred not to be noticed and I made sure that everyone that did received discipline.

I hustled money on the inside from the older kids that were unfortunately too damaged and unloved to make sense of their dead-end lives. When I was old enough, I started deals on the streets. Little things here and there and pocketed all that I could. I would tell you what I chose to do but what kind of teacher would I be if I gave you all of the answers.

The only truth to hustling is to be quick witted, charming, and above all respectful. You need this certain ‘Je Nais Se Quoi’ about you. If you’re not confident enough to act like you own the place and demand respect from your peers this will never work out for you. Pack up your bags and go back to your small little town.

All the money that I received I stashed away with my records that I buried in the back forest of a building. Always telling my elders I was going for a walk to gain perspective on this dark path they presumably thought I was on.

Little did they know I refused every opportunity to become adopted. I politely told every fake in love couple that wanted to fix their marriage that I was seventeen and looked young for my age. We all know married couples prefer children that are ten or younger so my little white lie worked like a charm.

School came easily for me. At the age of ten I choose to become a teacher’s pet. I helped with the younger generations with their school work. I used to call it a waste of time but it gave me extra breathing room to concoct all of my ideas and plans for the future.

By the time I was actually seventeen no one wanted to adopt me. That’s how I preferred to be. Why move into some militia territory with a couple of psychos or pedophile parents when all I have to do is sacrifice an occasional beat down and choose my own destiny.

Now let’s fast forward again. My eighteenth birthday right on the midnight hour. I left that building with one full bag, one empty bag, and a shovel. I dug up my money and my records with my mother’s pendent on and left. I didn’t look back. People who look back are sentimentalists and I despise any sort of attachment.

Off I went into the dark, walking into the shadows towards the unknown, leaving all my business, every single person, every single rock and stone that meant absolutely nothing to me and headed straight into the future.

I paid cash for absolutely everything. I boarded a train straight towards New York City. Very cliché but if you don’t start big at the beginning you will absolutely fail in your conquest. I emerged onto the noisy platform and already felt like, not home, but success.

The first thing you require is a cheap hotel that bills you monthly. They are hard to find but they are out there. Second thing that you will need to do is sell all of your valuable possessions and prepare to become a minimalist. I know that’s hard to imagine for the majority of you but that’s what you will have to become until you have hit the absolute top. For some it may be as far as you’re able to go or as far as you’re happy to.

Become familiar with all of the streets in the city that you are in. Know your surroundings and make sure to do your research for absolutely everything that is happening, will happen, or may happen. I researched for months for this underground art and music gallery in New York and I randomly ran into the manager at his favorite bistro. I talked my way into an invitation and voila I had all of the contacts that I would ever need in the underground art and music industry.

I sold all of my records to this rich, desperate, and pitiful man for twenty thousand dollars. I was set and comfortable for a while until I knew that my fake identity was becoming too well known for the city of New York.

I decided to buy a bus and remodel it to be a mini home as I ventured off from one city to the next dabbling in some legal and illegal dealings. I left each and every client with the previous creating a circle of cash with my huge cut. All of the cash ended up in some rich kids trust fund in LA too wasted and in and out of rehab to notice. The kid lives off their parent’s money and refuses to give them access.

To my benefit I am always one step ahead and prepared so that if my trail was too hot all I had to do was transfer the money from one rich kid to another. They all led absolute disgraceful lives so I felt no guilt in doing what I did. I decided to anonymously donate a trim off their actual money to different charities each time.

I eventually sold the bus I had been living in to this obnoxious couple. I wanted to honestly throw up just living through it. Never rely on anyone but yourself. That is the universal law to get anywhere in this life. After all of my financial and loose ends were tied, I took a plane to this remarkable place and bought myself my dream home in my dream location. I made my own dreams come true. I have travelled everywhere and met people all over the world. Ate amazing cultural foods and listened to some of the most exquisite music I have ever heard in my life.

Who knows where the rest of my life will take me? I have been considering giving myself a permanent name but again old habits do die hard. If this helps anyone who wants a life that’s as extraordinary as the one that I have created for myself take what I have written today and walk in the shadows because at the end of the day it will show you the light.

Signing in this one-of-a-kind black journal made in the seventeenth century I give this as a gift to anyone that has the courage to live vicariously through the eyes of an orphan. Draw your own path. Who knows we might even be able to exchange stories one day. You could also be a shady but kind person and return my journal back to me or sell it I honestly do not care.

Sincerely,

The Hustler