Freezing, naked, and with absolutely nothing to do, I began writing stories on suicide watch in my head.
I was not suicidal; it was more of a precautionary measure due to the nature of the terrible decisions I had made.
Throughout my incarceration, I have considered myself a writer. It’s been my creative outlet, my escape from the realities of this life where I find myself. Writing is a passion that brings me comfort and keeps me motivated. Whether I am working on my latest article or novel, the potential what-ifs excite me. What if my words result in actual change? What if the public gets as excited about my book as I am? What if I become a successful writer from the inside?
Having a purpose in this life is essential. Few people find their calling; the ones that do should feel fortunate. Going through the motions is easy, if not downright depressing, and is the standard route taken by those incarcerated. Finding my purpose and passion saved me from my own destructive self.
