I wonder why life is so complicated.
There are so many decisions to make,
so many things to experience,
so many feelings to feel.
Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream
and if one day I’m gonna wake up
to nd myself in another realm.
Meditating is my way of escaping this strange world. If you are like me, always wondering why,
and you need a way to cope,
simply focus on your breath.
Close your eyes and count with every inhale and exhale. And if your mind wanders off somewhere else, start over. Inhale 1, exhale 2, inhale 3, exhale 4 and so on.
My eyes have been closed for fourteen-years. I am now fteen-years old and trying to get my life together after waking up one day and feeling the heaviest regret ll my heart. This regret came to me like a ashback.
I looked in my mom’s tearful eyes, thought about the innocent people I took from and hurt. I thought about how my persona now is affecting my younger brothers perspective of my life and me. And now how every morning I have to wake up at the crack of dawn to pay the price of everything I put myself and everyone else through. I guess you could say this was part of my wake-up call, the other half consisted of terrible life experiences that just made me think “damn, I really just need to get it together and fast”.
This quote speaks in several different ways, but for me it says, “everyone goes through something, but everyone also gets their wake-up call.”
On a rainy Thursday in December my twin brother and I made a decision that we both regret. We’d been smoking and drinking with some girls, and, when we were about to walk home in the rain, my brother said, “Let’s get picked up.” I said, “Nah. Let’s walk. Mom’s probably sleeping.” He called her anyway. Then, when she was on her way, I saw an old “friend” who jumped me back in August. My brother told me not to confront him, but I didn’t listen. I regret that decision every minute of every day.
Being separated from my mom and my little brother hurts my heart. I pray to God a lot, everyday, to forgive me and to let me and my twin brother go home on GPS or supervision. I just want to see my loved ones again. I hope they all forgive me—my twin for what I’ve gotten him into, my mom for breaking her heart and my little brother for not being there to play with him. Every time I call home and hear my mom’s or my little brother’s voice, I cry, asking them for forgiveness. When I get out, I’m going to get a job and turn my life around.
For many years of my life I had refused to blame myself for my wrong doings. For some reason, it was always the teacher’s fault, the other kid’s fault, the victim’s fault for leaving their doors unlocked. It wasn’t until recently I learned to tell myself that every bad thing I did was of my own will.
When you blame others for things you do, how are you ever going to x yourself? If one doesn’t see a problem, then there is nothing to be xed. But there is a problem and if it goes un xed the person will follow a path of destruction and evil. Eventually, it will lead to some form of trouble, so those of you that are still unable to blame yourself for you own actions you need to learn to do so for the sake of your own well-being.
I didn’t have the best life growing up. I grew up without a mother or a father. My grandma played both parts as a parent, not only to me but to ve other grandkids, working hard to keep a roof over our heads. Many times we had beans and rice for days. I didn’t have much of a childhood. I was forced to give that up at a very early age and help my grandma look after my cousins and my baby sister. I remember telling my grandma that I would be the only one out of the whole family that would graduate and go to college.
But somehow things started to change. I started hanging out with a bad crowd; grandma never liked them and told me so. I started doing drugs, stealing, ditching school, and running away from home. My grandma would pray that I would change and go back to the good girl I use to be but I wouldn’t listen. It nally caught up with me and I landed in jail after going from one group home to another and becoming a ward of the state. And where are my so called friends now while I sit in my cell? I wish I would have listened to my grandma when she told me they were no good for me.
I lost my older sister to drug addiction. She started to do drugs when she was fteen and now she is twenty-two and in jail because of the drugs. She is now schizophrenic and she lost her two kids because of drugs, too. She can’t think or live without someone with her. If someone doesn’t help her she’ll probably be dead somewhere because she thinks that people are after her and she thinks that cars are fake and she’ll walk right in front of them.
That’s why I stay away from drugs. I try to help other kids stay away from drugs because I don’t want to see them like my sister. But now I’m in and out of jail because every time I try to help someone or try to do better for myself, I always come here. But when I’m in my room I think about my situation and I say to myself, “it could be worse. I could be like my sister and be on drugs and not be able to think for myself.” So I thank God that I know what drugs will do to you.
I’m reading a drawing just tryin’ to stay busy, this white room is shrinking I’m getting dizzy, I’m tired of waiting,
contemplating and debating on the next thing to do, with all of these guards, I’m trying not to be rude,
sitting thinking ‘bout my family and momma,
I hate to say it but the woman’s just drama,
all that woman does is yell and scream,
I hope she wakes up from her dream, starving herself washing it down, she drinks herself so she don’t have to frown, I
try not to think about it so much,
it starts with a little and ends with a bunch, then I can’t sleep, without her on my mind,
I hate the fact that I worry all the time, I’m not looking forward to the day that I call, that my mom died with her hands on a bottle.
I’m tired of being here to be honest. Coming here over and over is not cool at all. I wake up every day and ask myself, “How did I get here?” I never thought that I would ever be here. I’m tired of this street life. I’m tired of watching over my shoulder everywhere I go because of the things I’ve done to people in the past. I can’t leave my house without having a gun with me because there’s people that want to take my life because of my poor decisions.
Before my other brother got shot in a dice game, I didn’t have to worry about anything. Once my brother died that’s when my life started to go downhill. I started out all night, I started selling drugs, buying guns, and my anger began to get worse. I don’t trust people like I used to because you’ll never know when somebody will try to set you up. I’m tired of being talked about. Nobody knows what I go through or knows what I’ve been through.
Anxiety will ruin you and being locked up doesn’t make it any better. The counselors act like they understand what you’re going through. They think locking me up in a small room with no windows will help calm me down. I can’t just breath through my anxieties, it’s not that easy. I’m sitting here shaking, crying, heart pounding and I can’t catch my breath. The staff just tells me it’s going to be okay.
Now, it’s not going to be okay. I am sitting in Juvenile Hall after the most traumatic experience of my life. Not knowing what is going to happen. Nothing is okay, I can feel my body getting tense. My stomach feels like my insides are being ripped out. They act like they’re giving me so much support but I have never felt so alone in my life. I am the one with anxiety this intense and it is killing me. I am worrying about things that don’t even exist. Anxiety will completely ruin you, physically and mentally.
As I sat in juvenile hall, I worried and thought about 2Pac who was in intensive care at the time. I thought for sure he would survive the terrible tragedy which happened to him in Las Vegas.
Now that 2Pac has passed, his death really worries me because of the life he led. I always wondered when something went down with 2Pac (shootings, rape, running his mouth, and talking shhh in his raps) if it would come back on him?
I see his death as a tragedy, because he was a man who had been through most of the things I either witnessed or been apart of. I will miss his voice telling me how to deal with my community. 2Pac was the role model of the people I hang around . I used to be in the dope game real deep, so when I listened to 2Pac it would help me learn how to deal with the game and the people in this madness,