I was four years old when my mom vanished out of thin air one day. Both of my parents were high school dropouts and were involved in their second marriages. My father had already produced seven other children that he was [...]
Antwan Johnson explains how he followed his daddy into a life of selling drugs, he's been shot 9 times, he killed his best friend, he loves his kids, misses his dad -- and knows that he'll just shoot someone again if he's out on the street and someone pisses him off.
Prison Writers Staff2021-05-06T14:31:48-04:00Childhood, Daily Survival, Going to Prison, Juveniles in Prison|
Heather D'Aoust has written 30 tips for Surviving Prison. Here is Tip #6: Surviving Coed Gangs in Juvie Prison. I got arrested at 14, facing the threat of a life sentence
BEING ABLE TO SIT DOWN AND EXPRESS CERTAIN SECRETS FROM MY CHILDHOOD AND UPBRINGING IS A BIT MORE DIFFICULT THAN EXPECTED. I'm now 44 years old as I sit in this cell serving a 30-year prison sentence for a first-degree murder charge.
A number of months ago, I reached a milestone in my own life, one that isn't in any way positive but one that's definitely made me stop and think. I am 31 years old and I have spent half my life in prison as Prisoner #595904 in Michigan’s Department of Corrections, Inmate Dankovich.
In the ghetto, there’s lots of improvisation. As young boys, we were very active and had loads of energy. We liked to play baseball, but lacked the equipment. No problem. For a bat, we used a broken broom handle. [...]
Dear Younger Self, If you only knew where you were headed and the degree of suffering you will endure, you'd stop the hands of time. But you don't, you can't. Your young mind cannot create such imagery.
Living in a household ruled by addiction, there were many nights spent with hunger as my friend. I would open the refrigerator only to find some moldy cheese and an empty gallon of a milk jug filled with water.
We went to the room. He had a pipe and some alcohol. We smoked. We drank. I talked. He listened. We ended up laughing. Next thing you know we were having sex. I was on my back, legs on his shoulders. It was consensual. It was fine.
The reality is, prison has in fact made me worse than who I was before I came here. It has made me shallow and cold, like winter. It has made me recognize anger, loneliness, hate, and despair -- as everyday feelings. Feelings like happiness, and love, definitely don’t exist.