Prison

ya, prison isn't very fun. I've always been a computer kid with a small group of friends. This went on until my junior year in high school. A lot of my firsts happened that year, because I wanted to meet new people and expand myself to new things. I got drunk for the first time, I got laid for the first time, but the biggest thing was I smoked marijuana for the first time. The only knowledge of drugs I have had prior to that experience was something my mom told me when I was very young, "If you do drugs I'll kick you ass!" No reasoning, only the "just say no" policy. I was amazed to find out what marijuana was like. "This isn't that bad" I would smoke every other weekend for a few months. It then became a weekly occurrence. Every weekend it was our goal to get stoned. All my friends would pile into a car and smoke until we couldn't light our lighters. This was due to the lack of oxygen. We once fit 7 people into a Geometro.  Summer goes by, I'm smoking frequently by this time. I get a job working at Rite Aid as a cashier. I now have a cash flow and can sustain my habit quite easily. I would have been just like every other stoner in high school, but there was one factor that changed everything. I met a kid. Not just any kid, but someone with a thorough understanding of selling marijuana and the money to back it. We became quick friends and the largest pot dealers in the high school. One of my favorite routines was rolling a joint the night before. When it came time for lunch I would rush into the line get my food and start walking to the car stuffing my face as fast as possible. My friend and I would compare each others joints to see who had the more superior subject. This lasted a very long time. We decided to call it off when I was observed selling marijuana in the high school parking lot by non other than the super intendant. I was able to drive away, but I had security asking a lot of questions about my vehicle. We would just buy small amount and hook our friends up and smoke ourselves senseless. I had a very relaxed routine for the the last semester of my senior year. 4 classes. I got to sleep in till 10 every day. Regardless of my situation in school by the time graduation came I was so tired of school. I could not even think of going back for another four years right away. I took a year off. I moved to the S** J****. O**** specifically. I worked for an excavation company. 40 hours a week, hard labor. I still smoked pot near daily. After work special, kinda deal. I was a very socially oriented person at that time in my life. My friends were my family. However they all stayed in P******. I was homesick often and missed them. I would take trips every other weekend if not every weekend. I began purchasing marijuana to resell on O**** to people who I knew well. The idea behind this was to counter the cost of gas and expenditures when travelling to P******. It helped. When It came time to go back to school I was more than ready. I could feel the effects of body degradation. Shoveling is very traumatic to the body. I lived in my mom's house for a short period of time. I later moved in with another friend that had a knack with money and a strong desire for marijuana. This is where the story comes to a pivotal moment. I lived there for maybe 10 months before the drug enforcement agency came into the house with guns drawn. I think back to that day and say, "At least I was at work..." I had left that morning, maybe an hour before the police showed up. Later that day I turned myself in. I was charged with delivery of marijuana and manufacture of a controlled substance. I was growing psychedelic mushrooms. I was released within a few days and spent the next 5 months delaying the inevitable. I was a public enemy and the prosecutor was going to send me to jail. I had a strong case against me and opted for the plea bargain. It was 15months. We tried to get an alternative sentencing for drug addicts. This however did not work. It came to the moment in the court room where the judge would pass sentencing. My heart was beating out of my chest, trying to make his loops move the way I wanted. As soon as the judge stated the word, “unfortunately” I knew it was over. I began to take my tie off, stand up and empty all of my belongings from my pockets onto the table in front of me. I turned around to see my girlfriend, my sister, my mom all in tears. My dad was about the only one that could keep himself collected. I broke into tears as I embraced them one by one and said my goodbyes. This was all happening while the judge was still talking. My public defender could not bear it any longer and teared up as well. After the judge finished he left immediately. I was given a few more minutes with my family and was ushered away in handcuffs. I was on the chain gang to prison two days later. I never knew what to expect. All I've seen are television shows and movies. Both of which are pretty far from reality. At least in the places I served. I was sentenced 15 months and only served 7½. I was able to go to work release about 3 months into my sentence. This allowed me to get a job, eat real food, and get socials where my family picked me up and I got to spend 8 hours with them. This was a much better experience than 7½ months in jail.  I however went through an incredibly emotional time. This was prior to getting to work release. My relationship with my girlfriend was fading and there was nothing I could do about. You have very little control of what goes on outside of your daily routine in prison this is the most difficult thing about being in that place. I spent literally hundreds of dollars on just phone calls. I was desperate to keep the only thing I had intact. But to no avail she moved on without looking back. I have not felt an emotional hurt like that before. I did not contemplate suicide or anything, but depression lasted long time. Of which I feel I just recently got over. We were together for almost 3 years. It was not meant to last. I was very much attached. Well I could elaborate this story in much greater detail, but I think a page and a half is enough to get a good general idea. Maybe I’ll come back to it someday and make it better. Too lazy to proof read.