-Fiji, San Quentin State Prison
I sat there and stared at the crumpled piece of paper laying on the sidewalk. I couldn’t help but wonder how many people walked by that discarded piece of paper without even noticing that not even a foot away sits a trash can. After some time sitting there, I stood up and did something that anybody could have done, but up until then, nobody chose to do.
A thought enters my mind. I was like a crumpled piece of paper before, a problem child, a headache, troublemaker, people looking at me like a crumpled paper. Instead of throwing me away into a trash can, they walk past me yet complain about how us crumpled papers litter street corners. A piece of paper in a trash can gets recycled and reused for something totally different, even becoming something different.
Nobody did what anybody could have done, which was nurture me at points in my life, loved me a little more, and paid a little more attention to me. The only one to do that was my grandma. She didn’t throw me away. Instead, she kept ironing me out to straighten me out. She kept at it, til she left this world into the next.
Society decided to discard this crumpled paper, into the trash can prison, but as I write this piece, I sit here a recycled being. Repurposed, renewed, refurbished, and recreated. Before when I showed signs of need, nobody did what anyone could have done. When I showed promise, everyone still doubted saying it cannot be done.
I’ve learned now while people may have doubts when I come back home, I say let ‘em debate among themselves saying what can’t be done. I’ll quietly be off to the side getting it done.