He always did live in his head; he did always think in verse. But he wasn't always mute.
A few months before his twenty-eighth birthday, the boy that would come to be known as Tre had several mental breakdowns. He attempted suicide a couple of times, even spent some time in a minimum security psychiatric ward.
And then he walked away from a one-dollar-over-minimum-wage thirty-five hour-a-week job that paid his bills, and despite hating every person who walked through the front door (including his coworkers), he actually liked. He also walked away from a lifetime assemblage of personal effects, including books, computers, clothing, video games and hardware, and a miniscule savings. He also walked away from his name.
He walked until he found a place to stop, spent the night, and then got up and walked more, carrying nothing but the clothes on his back and a lonely deck of tarot cards, scavenged from his old life.