The funny thing is, I know I'm bugging out. Seriously. Holding onto one topic, sitting down to watch a TV show, even holding a conversation. My attention span is that of a 3-year-old who just had too much sugar.
I think about food, motorcycles, women, the clothes I want. If I saw a doctor they would diagnose me A.D.D. My mind works overtime. I can barely sleep. People I like piss me off. Things I used to do and enjoy now frustrates me. Now I understand why my daughter won't talk to me when she's on her period. Life is difficult. No, I'm not on my period, I'm about to be released from prison.
My life for the past 10 years has been a ritual. A fucked up ritual but routine all the same. I'm about to take back freedom of choice. Wow! Can you imagine having that right stripped from you?
A family member and I used to be extremely tight. We both left work to head home and watch Jerry Springer every day at 1 pm. When I came to prison we fell out. She was so disappointed in me. Ten years have gone by and I reached out to her through someone. She told that mutual friend that I did my time, I should come home now. That touched me on another level. This shit sucked. It wasn't easy. And now at the very end, it looks like it will continue to beat my ass right out the door. But my cousin was right. I did my time. And I didn't cry about it. I didn't whine about it. I didn't ask for sympathy. I pulled up my big-boy boots and I wore this thing.
It was punishment.....every day. I punished myself more than the place did. I grew up here under it's pressure. I became....a Dad, a brother, an uncle and a son. I am a man, and if the place doesn't kill me, I'll be home in 3 months. I got this last little bit of air in my lungs and I'm swimming like hell for the surface.
