Having no hope for the future is what brought me back to prison so many times in the past.
I’m named after my father, Charles Aaron. I’ve never met him; his name is the only thing he ever gave me. I was born into the system on the last day of Scorpio, November 21, 1985—at least that’s what it says on my birth certificate. But if you ask my sister, she’d tell you I was actually born on the 22nd.
I’m the youngest of six, with two brothers, James and Jarvis, and three sisters, Detrice, Latasha, and Glenda. I’ve never met James and have only met Jarvis a few times. I’ve only met Glenda once, but I’ve had on-and-off contact with Latasha and Detrice over the years. As of now, I have no idea where any of them are. I used to think I needed them and blamed my problems on them. Now, I realize I’d much rather start a family of my own, and that hope sustains me every single day.
Having no hope for the future is what brought me back to prison so many times in the past. The thing I miss most about being outside is meeting decent people. As a child, I looked up to a guy named Greg, who would hop inside the ice cream truck and throw toys and candy to all the kids in the neighborhood. I wanted to be just like him, so I started stealing from stores to feed not only myself but also those around me who were hungry. They call it Robin Hood syndrome.
I’ve always found comfort in doing for others what I wished someone would have done for me. When it comes to love, I no longer dream of being someone special in the world; I would rather be the world to someone special.
