When I saw that paperwork from my P.O., my stomach dropped. Eight years? Are you kidding me? Before I got locked up, I thought I was headed right back down the same path I’d seen so many others take – a revolving door of prison sentences. It seemed like that was my destiny.

After five years inside, six months out, and they were already trying to send me back. The thought of it made me sick. I felt like a loser, a complete screw-up. I was convinced everyone was right about me – that I was nothing but a criminal.

But here I am, out again, breathing fresh air, and damn, it feels good. It’s like a massive weight has been lifted. But let’s be real, this ain’t no fairy tale ending. It’s a constant grind to stay on track, and I’m fighting an uphill battle.

Society slapped a label on me, the same one they slap on anyone who’s ever messed up: “felon.” It’s like we’re second-class citizens now, with fewer rights and opportunities than everyone else. They think just because we made a mistake, we’re damaged goods forever.

The truth is, they sentenced me to 5 years in prison, 3 years probation, but what they really gave me was a life sentence. That “felon” label is a shadow that follows you everywhere, making life harder and carrying a stigma that never seems to fade.

But I refuse to be defined by this label. I’m not going to be another statistic, another guy who can’t stay out of trouble. This time, I’m proving everyone wrong, especially myself. I’m going to build a life I can be proud of, and I’m going to show everyone that I’m more than just an ex-con.

Written today: 07/09/24.