"I Know I Can (I Know I Can)/"Be What I Wanna Be (Be What I Wanna Be)/"If I Work Hard At It (If I Work Hard At It)/"I'll Be Where I Wanna Be (I'll Be Where I Wanna Be."

Hey, Nasir Bin Olu Dara Jones Jr.

How you doin', Boss? Now, I know you're probably never gonna read this, in between all that production work you got going on. Oh, and still proving to these young cats your G.O.A.T-ness. Anyways, I've begun undergoing an epic transformation in my way of thinking in the last week-and-a-half, and I just had to share it with you.

Some backstory first. I've always battled self-esteem issues. Confidence has never been my best friend in this life. Instead, I spent quality time with Insecurity and Envy as my Two Pals.

And until I got held back a year in 2000, I wasn't even aware that those Two Pals were mine.

But then reality hit when I took that long walk in the hallway to repeat the same grade--the only one in my original class to do so--entering a classroom of younger faces who, somehow, already knew I was the oldest one there.

Even though I'd been held back for failing the NY State math standardized exam twice, I felt like those classmates and teacher burned a "Stupid" scarification into my skin with their stares that day.

And those Two Pals became my only ones. They weren't there to help; they never gave advice or helping hands, and kicked me while I was out. I remember their smiles while I tried getting back up, all for them to kick me down again and burst into explosive guffawing at my pain.

When ten guys jumped and robbed me on that IND Queens Boulevard Express train between Queens Plaza and Roosevelt Avenue at rush hour, February 27th, 2007 (I remember dates like remembering to breathe), I swung back, but Insecurity and Envy were teaming up with those goons.

I just didn't see them at the time, because they blended in well with my attackers. But for a kid who'd managed to get Confidence as an associate, to the point when I even stood up to the bus bully from middle school (he dared me to give him the finger to his face; I happily obliged with the two-finger salute). This new attack just broke off my talks with Confidence. And the Two Pals returned to fill that void.

Things only went down from there.

I could go on all day with this. But you're a busy cat, so I'll cut to it.

Last year, after a successful few years of counseling to test the waters with Confidence as my bestie, he left me during a series of mishaps. A beloved high school friend suddenly cut communication with no warning, money and tax woes piled up and hopes for a journalism career sank, among other things I won't broach here.

All those things piling up in short succession cracked my psyche. And overthinking became commonplace.

To the point where if someone even gazed at me while walking by, I'd play a scenario in my mind of him cursing me out or wanting to slap me. I'd interpret the tiniest body language signs from others in public as threats. Or rather, I created those threats in my mind.

So on that one day this month, when I felt my usual barrage of negative thoughts coming in, no doubt burnished by my nefarious Two Pals, I made a change.

I suddenly began playing "I Can" in my head and imagined myself zipping up all my bad thoughts and throwing them out. It worked. And from then on, through today and beyond, I've used that tactic to blare out all negative thoughts, no matter how small they were.

I feel a million times stronger already. Like Piccolo in that Dragon Ball Z episode when he absorbed Nail into his body on Namek.

You're right. I CAN. It's just that with those Two Pals, I kept telling myself, "I CANNOT." I've realized that overthinking everything and worrying about what others might say in response to my arguments, was blocking Confidence from being my homie.

Those Two Pals ran into a firewall I placed up with your song, and I've barely seen them since. They're still yelling at me through the cracks, but I'm much more able to ignore them now.

Confidence wants to be my Hitter, and I'm definitely down with that. So thank you, Nas, for helping me connect with him and beginning life on a much healthier path for myself.

Yours truly,

Hannington