PRISONER EXPRESS

When I was young, growing up in a town with a population of 180,000, I ran wild from a very early age. I smoked pot for the first time when I was 8. Hanging out with the high school kids at the local drag when I was 10, I started on a road of drugs and rock-n-roll trying to fit in and be cool.

At the age of 14, I tried acid for the first time while locked up in a juvenile detention center. This was after being locked up in 3 different mental institutions (my first at age 10).

When I was 16 I started stealing and selling drugs. This got me put in a state school for the second time. While I was in there, I got my G.E.D. and when I got out I tried to go to college. I got picked up for tickets almost at the end of the semester and after spending 10 days in jail I missed my finals. I grew withdrawn and didn't care anymore and I started selling drugs again. I sold acid and pot, but partied my profits away so I had to start working. After 2 years of working in the day and partying all night I was burnt out. I ended up living with my sister and watching her son and my other sister's daughter during the day and drinking at night. I gained a lot of weight and after doing this for a year I grew restless and got another job. I was basically off drugs that first year and I barely drank or did drugs for another year, but I soon found a good connection for cocaine and started doing it again. It ended up costing me my girlfriend, my house, my job, and my car.

I was at the end of my rope, but instead of quitting drugs I started stealing again. This time though was unlike anything I had ever done before. At first I did it alone, but soon I involved my little brother. In 5 months we burglarized almost 100 businesses. All of my part went on cocaine, except for 50 dollars a week for a roach infested efficiency.

My brother's girlfriend went with us on one of our jobs and my mother found some stolen stuff in her closet and turned us in. We didn't know that she had signed a statement against us for a few months, but one day 3 police came knocking on our door. My brother answered the door and we were carted off to the county jail.

In all I spent 2 years and 8 months in prison. I tried to make the best of my time there. I took a general maintenance class and computer class they offered. I started doing Bible studies through the mail and acquired several certificates from a number of places.

Once I got through I forgot all about what I had learned. I bought a pack of cigarettes before I got on the bus and that night I was drunk, had smoked a joint, and taken pills for the first time.

I kept the same job for 2 years and 3 months, but after I got my second DWI, I knew they were going to send me back to prison. I burglarized several places and used the money and took off for Tennessee. After a year there I had gotten another DWI and I got caught one night I was out drunk breaking into businesses. I ended up spending 2 years and 3 months in prison there. I had left a bloody fingerprint at a car lot I had burglarized in Duthart, TX and they did DNA testing and the results came back three days before they were going to release me from Tennessee.

I was extradited back to Texas and convicted again for burglary and had my parole revoked. I have now been locked up here again for 1 and a half years with 6 more to go. I am up for parole again in Oct. of 2005. I don't expect to be granted parole because of my numerous offenses throughout the years.

I add up all the time I have spent locked up as a child and an adult and it adds up to eight years and two months. So what have I really learned so far in my short life. I know I don't like being locked up. Who does? I've learned to hate. For me this is a dangerous emotion, because it makes me self-destructive. I only want to get out and live my life. I don't know how I am going to do this because my family has all but abandoned me this time. No job prospects, nobody waiting for me with open arms. Maybe this time, having to go it alone I will do better. Who knows? I started out writing this about growing older and it's totally gone off kilter. I know many people have it far worse that me and I shouldn't sit around feeling sorry for myself. What are we to do then? Prisons offer almost no chance for rehabilitation. I am not in a very violent prison, but the guards treat us like we are dogs. They speak to us any way they feel. They pounce at the chance to take anything they can from us. They are petty and vindictive. I have all but lost hope for myself. I'll probably end up back in prison growing older.