Prison Without Weed

It’s Jack, here to charm you with my tale of self-destruction. Welcome back, loyal readers!

So here I was, 20 years old, chilling in prison and not knowing what to do with myself. I never thought I’d end up there. I was a good kid. The only thing I ever did wrong was smoking weed. And growing it. Guess I shouldn’t leave that out.

I took classes because that’s one benefit you can get in prison. I did college just like I had planned to outside before my little interruption. I thought a lot about my past and what I’d done wrong. I think that’s one of the main points of prison, you know?

I found that my brain worked a bit better without marijuana clogging the pipes. I remembered the information and understood it more often than not. In high school, it was like my brain was a sieve and I didn’t really take in anything. It was kind of cool remembering how good I was at math.

There’s this moment when you’re struggling with a math problem or difficult equation when it just clicks. And when it clicks it’s like the sun has come out after a hurricane, you know? I loved that feeling. And all of the sudden math was clicking left and right. I had an aptitude for it, who would have guessed.

Most of my time in prison was spent hunkered down getting my classes out of the way. I was at peace the best I could be, focusing on school in a way I hadn’t in years. Seriously, weed had taken over my life, and I’d never even realized it. Now everything was crystal clear.

Prison had its ups and downs. I obviously was not meant for prison, so we didn’t get along. At first, I was way too snarky with the guards and inmates alike. I learned my lesson quick. Pot growers were low on the prison social hierarchy.

My cellmate actually ended up being awesome. His name was Rudy, and he was in for grand theft auto. It wasn’t as dangerous as you’d think, he stole his mom’s car in a fit of adolescent rage, and she’d decided to press charges.

Rudy wasn’t even mad about it because he said he’d been headed down a bad path anyways. He was 18 and skipping school and drinking alcohol and basically harassing his parents. When it came down to it they did him a favor by sending him away.

Rudy and I focused on our schooling. He got his GED, and I got my start on a degree in mathematics. We were even due to get out around the same time so we exchanged information.

Having a friend inside was the best thing to help me stay grounded. I wasn’t alone or feeling depressed when someone had my back. We agreed to meet up after we were out and be friends in the real world. That wasn’t really the best idea.

That’s it for now, my hands are dang tired of typing. Next time we will talk about how it’s still easy to make mistakes even when you think you’re doing alright.

Prison Without Weed
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