Writing Exchange V

Journal #64
When I was five years old my mother passed away from cancer. I remember playing with my friends when my father called me over and said those words, “Your mother died 3 days ago.” I remember my dad’s girlfriend crying, but I was thinking, “What’s wrong.” I remember her holding me as I cried a little. I was too young to really realize what it meant to lose my mother.
As I got older, I remember how much it hurt to know and have to think that my mommy would never come back. I have a little sister and even though it was years later, she would still cry and ask for “Mommy.” I still think to this day, “Why God? Why my mom?” Sometimes I still think she is out there somewhere and that maybe this was all a mistake and that maybe one day I will see her. I know now that she is gone, but it is easier to think differently. I still cry about my mom and wonder why. I have only a couple memories of her though.
I have 3 sisters and out of them all, I look the most like my mother. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I think I see her, but then I remember it is just me. I know she was a good person and loved us girls very much. I am in Juvenile Hall right now because when I was 13, I distanced myself from my family and started running away from everything and everyone. I am pregnant now and I have finally realized how much I need my family. I miss my family so much. I am praying they forgive me and accept me back into their lives. I have already lost my mother and I realize now how much I really have in my life.
I am going to have a baby now and I know my life will be very rough, but I will be the best mother I can be. I will show my child love. The things I have been through in my life, the good and the bad, have only taught me more about life. I have learned from my mistakes and I am a stronger person.

Journal #65
It all happens in the blink of an eye. You don't realize what you've done until it's too late. Now all you can do is think. You wish you would have thought smarter, faster, better...NO! Wait...If you were thinking at all you would have been at home helping your mom instead of just staying out all night smoking weed, snorting coke, and popping pills. Don't you know how much she worries and cares about you? Even if you dropped out of school? You should have been home helping your younger siblings with their homework. They need you too: WAY MORE than your friends.
What the hell are friends? They dragged you down to their low level. Now you're either a functioning user or you're dependent. Drugs made you do things you regret so bad. The thoughts won't leave you alone. They are on your mind, day in and day out. You hate yourself. Not you, ME. I hate myself. Why? I don't know. I'm disgusted with it. I am deciding to change for the better. I'll finally be there for my family who misses me despite the fact that I almost walked out on them. Most importantly, I'll finally be there for myself.


Journal #66
Sitting with my mind paused off in a daze,
gripping imaginary sand, watching memories of waves
Then I think what is life and what does it mean,
Am I trapped in reality or in a complex dream?
I can feel the sound around me and it’s good to my sense,
But does anyone truly know what happens when it ends?
Is everything still good or will everything change,
It’s like a battlefield of questions I keep locked in my brain.
I admit if the outcome is bad then I’ll be scared,
But if it’s a better life, our vision was just impaired.
I can picture perfect people and places beyond wealth,
No more shedding tears, an abundance of health
Everything would be calm and I would be at ease,
We would pray with the clouds finally rising from our knees.
God’s in our stature, children to the thrown,
What I would give to stop dreaming and find my pathway home.
Cause the world today has darkened, filled with pain and sorrow,
And at the rate we’re proceeding we might not reach tomorrow.
So while everyone is sleeping in a distant land dreaming,
I’m waiting for that day to finally start breathing.

Journal #67
When I was born, my dad left my mom. My mom was addicted to multiple drugs. At three years old, my dad showed up and got custody of me. I hated him for taking me away from my mom. A year or two later, he got married to a woman I despised. I would do something wrong, not something big, but she would make it such a big deal and beat me. She smokes weed and is an alcoholic. Her and my dad would fight all the time.
I never got to be with friends. When I got to high school I dropped out. Some of my friends smoked weed, so I tried it too. I liked it so I continued to use it. My dad’s wife found out I dropped out so I got beat again. I was tired of being hit, so I ran away. I realized I liked running away and seeing friends better than staying at the house. I ran away more often.
Recently, I ran away and was out late one night. I was at a friend’s place when some police came up and accused me of starting a fire because some guys saw me earlier at a place where the fire started. Now I am in the hall and I have to wait a month and a half for a trial. The sad thing is I like it better here than at home.

Journal #68
The job I wanted was construction;
but what I've done is mass disruption.
I know that life in unfair,
they always make fun of what I wear.
But, I swear sometimes life's fair.
I look and sound young for my age.
Can you please read the next page?
I've always wanted to die,
Please don't give me one more lie.

Journal #69
There are events in everyone’s lives that change them. My father’s death changed my life and future. He died when I was seven. I didn’t even cry because I didn’t know how to feel. That is when all the discipline went away. I started doing whatever I wanted. I started smoking weed to help with the pain at age 11. That is also when I got my first felony and two misdemeanors. I was on a path of destruction. The thing I realized is that if I would have had a dad to teach me things or be there to discipline me when I messed up, I don’t think I would be in half the trouble I am in today. Fathers are important no matter how mad you get at them. Most kids are lucky because they have one. I haven’t had a father for ten years.

Journal #70
I guess you could say my dad has always been a little weird in the head. I remember him beating someone up just because he thought they took a rock from his yard. My parents were never married. I only had visits with my dad because of how cold blooded he was.
I just got out of school on a summer day and walked into my dad’s house. I was probably 8-9 years old. Who knew that it could have been the end of my life. I am not sure if my dad was spun out or not. As I walked in the door, he asked me how my day was. “Good,” I replied and went to my room to watch TV. I looked up and saw the gun slightly shaking back and forth. Then he shot it. The bullet went through my hair. Even though there was probably a loud noise, it didn’t seem to scare me. I don’t know why. Soon I went back to watching TV. My dad just walked out of the room. We never talked about it. I never told my mom because she wouldn’t have let me go back and visit him. Like six months later I saw him again as if nothing ever happened.

Journal # 71
My life is just too into the gang life. My mom tells me to stop it, but it's like an inspirational saying- it goes in one ear and comes out the other. I just can't stop the life I live. I try and I try, but it just comes back. The only way I can stop is if I move from where I live now. My parents are thinking about moving so we can get away from all the danger. I just want to say that I do want to change.

Journal #72
I chose a path.
I chose a path to walk through.
The night is dark and I don't have anyone to talk to.
The small light beaming in my eyes,
creates words that I can't describe.
There is no escape.
I feel like screaming, but I just close my eyes.
The sun has come back, but stays behind these prison walls.
Long days and long nights.
Long months and long times.
Only if I could press rewind.
I wouldn't change my way,
just my mistakes.
Hopefully, it will all fall into place.
Surrounded by hate and strangers once again,
my pride never fails.
Now I'm back up in this cell.
Once again, there is no way out.
Being broke with no home,
to being broke with my own.
The game has taught me to survive alone.
I chose a path.

Journal #73
On June 21st of last summer, my best friend died at my house. We were all partying and having a good time. We just took some methadone wafers and started drinking. No one knew my friend was dying because we were drunk in the living room. About two hours later, me and my girl went to my room and there he was on my bed, his face blue, choking on his own vomit. I ran over and flipped him on his stomach and my girl called 911. I was trying so hard to bring him back. By the time the EMT’s got there it was too late. I went to the hospital and called his mom. As she walked in, I broke down and his mom held me. I stayed with her that whole week. I felt guilty because he stole the pills from his mom. I forgot about him. If I would have found him sooner, it could have saved his life. Now I have to live with that. I will not make that mistake again. It changed my life forever.

Journal #74
An event that changed me was when my mom passed away. I was almost 10 years old and had been staying in a group home at the time. It was Thursday, June 16th. I was going to visit her. I had talked to her the night before. She was acting really weird, saying, “I’ll love you not matter what happens.” It really scared me, but she acted weird quite a lot.
Well, when I got to the place where we visited, we went to a different room than we usually visited in. I thought nothing of it until I walked in a room with my social workers and my counselor. They handed me my mom’s teddy bear and a picture of me and my mom on Christmas. Then they said, “Your mom’s dead.” I said, “Your ******* kidding me.” They said, “No, I’m sorry. She died in her sleep last night.” They told me she had a heart attack. Then they said they were going to tell my sister next. I said, “No, I am. It will be easier on her.” So we went to my sister’s. I gave her my mom’s stuffed puppy and a picture of her and my mom.
On July 7th we had the memorial at the Amphitheater. A week later we went to my mom’s viewing. It looked like she was sleeping. I wanted to wake her up so bad. My social worker kept saying my mom had a heart attack.
It is now two years later, and I recently found out it was a suicide, not a heart attack. That just brought me back to crying. I had to tell my sister. Man, I miss my mom.

Journal #75
I was sent to ROP (a wanna-be boot camp) for damn near two years. During that time I was messing up. I ran at least 9 times. I was selling weed and smoking it. It took me a minute for something to pop in my head. That was when my older brother told me to be better than him. The thing that made me think about it was a phone call home from the “boot camp.” My older brother told me my mom was in the hospital and they didn’t plan on letting her out. Instead, they were going to send her to a rehabilitation facility until she recovered from her 6 heart-bypasses. During all the surgeries, they discovered that my mom wouldn’t be able to walk, was partly blind, and had slight memory loss.
The “boot camp” was telling me that I would not be able to go home until my mother got out of the hospital. A month passed. I finally got a home pass to go and see her for three days. Well, during that home pass, I was told that our house was up for closure, because the bills weren’t getting paid. By that time the bill was sky high. I didn’t have anything else to do except to try and make money, so that we didn’t lose the house. My little brother was locked up and I wanted him to go home and not have to live in the streets. So I started selling dope on my home pass. I turned my home pass into a 3 month home pass instead of a 3 day. I was making paper. I was saving it for that house. My cousin told me to head back to the camp.
When I got back to ROP, everything was all messed up. It took me 3 or 4 more months to qualify for a six bed group home. Then I asked for a pass to see about my mom and they gave it to me. Now my home was boarded up. Mom was still in the hospital, so I ran and was selling again. It took 10 months for them to catch me. Now I sit in Juvenile Hall waiting till September to come by. Then I’ll be free and I’ll be 18.

Writing Exchange IV

Writing Exchange IV
Fresno and Butte County Juvenile Halls
July 17, 2008

Journal #46
I'm on the wrong road. I grew up with older people telling me what I should do to be remembered. They told me I should be true, and that I should hate my enemies on sight. They also taught me how to shoot, and shoot to kill. When I was growing up, I thought this was the way of life. I also thought I was on the right path; until I got locked up--attempted murder, my first offense. The judge told me I was getting 25 years to life. Then they dropped it to 7 years. Now I sit here thinking of how all those people were telling me lies. When I get out, I'm going to get on the right path, even though it won't be easy. At least now I know I'm on the road to success.

Journal #47
It seems like I’ve been traveling the road to failure for quite sometime now. Doing drugs and breaking the law has gotten me nowhere. If I could have just said no to drugs that first time, things would be a lot different now. But, I think things are going to be different when I get out. I’m starting to set long-term goals and I’m growing more confident in my ability to succeed. I will be great one day, I can feel it. I’m getting off the path of destruction and starting to walk the narrow path that leads to life. This is going to be a good change.

Journal #48
I’m on a path to prison. I’ve been to Juvenile Hall four times, but I don’t want to be on this path. I want to go to school and to become a mechanic. I want to have kids, a house, and to turn my life around, but it is really hard. I’m 11 years old. I’m going to be in Juvenile Hall on my 12th birthday plus I will be looking at six months on EMP (Electric Monitoring Program).
These are my main goals in life: to finish school, become a mechanic, buy a house, and to have kids. I would also like to own a jet black 86 Chevy Camero with red leather interior and chrome rims. I’ll get there by finishing school and going to college. I’m going to take responsibility and I am going to obey the law.
My role models are my grandpa and my step grandpa. My grandpa is a retired NASA worker. My step grandpa is the owner of a winery. I want to be like them.

Journal #49
My path consists of good and bad. The good includes that I do participate in school. I also have a few positive friends that have helped me to do better things. My family is very supportive and for the most part, they have been a good motivation to stay away from my habits.
Though I have people to motivate me, I can’t seem to keep myself together. Maybe it is the lack of goals or dreams. I can’t seem to look ahead or stay positive. Lately drugs have become a big part of my life. It’s like I’ll try to stay away from drugs and alcohol, but bad things just keep coming and drugs always seem to be the best way out. Sometimes I myself don’t even understand why I put myself through so much. I had a good life and I’m throwing it away.
In my life, I want to experience happiness or some kind of reason to wake up in the mornings. I know that I will never find happiness by the things I am doing now. I guess my goal would be to graduate and go to college. Right now I love writing. If I were able to be a writer, I would like that. Of course I want a family of my own. I want a life that doesn’t consist of drugs or crimes or jail. It sounds so easy to just give it all up. It is not.

Journal #50
My dream is to be a professional football player. I’ve been playing football since I was a fifth grader. When I became an eighth grader, I got into weed. Ever since I’ve been smoking weed, my life changed. I started hanging out with gangsters. I started to get drunk and go to parties. I also used to stay out late. My grades dropped a lot.
Now I’m a tenth grader and I’m locked up here in juvenile hall. This is the first time I’ve been clean in a long time. Now I’ve realized what I got myself into. So now whenever I get out, I’m going to start going to church and hanging out with a different crowd. I’m going to get back into a regular school and play some ball and hopefully go on and play pro ball. THAT’S MY DREAM.

Journal #51
One day I sat to think of what my life will soon become,
Will I make it to my 21st or have a shorter run?
It’s hard to tell when I’m unaware of the struggles that lie ahead,
Will I find the strength to change my ways or will I just be dead?
I try each day to make it better than the last because deep down I know I must,
When I’m through those doors I fall back to the past because it’s the only thing I trust.
Maybe one day I’ll do what I need and let my music take me away,
Until that happens it’s back to my life of being a soul that strays.
So while I stay and carry on, I continue to write and pray,
And if my prayers are ever answered that’s the day I’ll pave my way.

Journal #52
I remember a day when I almost fell to my death. I was up for three days. I didn’t sleep; I didn’t eat; I didn’t drink. Crystal had taken full control of me. It was the third day; I had turned into a beast. There was no going back; I just smoked two eight balls to the dome. What could I do? “Don’t stop, you need it, it makes you feel good”, the devil told me. So, I didn’t stop smoking and nobody in my path was going to make me!
That was until Friday morning when crystal almost took my life. I was scared; everything was spinning round and round. I was tripping out; then my chest was hurting like someone stabbed it. I couldn’t breathe, my face went numb and my heart was pounding faster than ever. I thought I was going to explode. I called for an ambulance; next thing I know is that I’m in an ambulance with all kinds of things hooked up to me. I asked the paramedic sitting next to me “Will I make it?” He told me “Not if your heart doesn’t slow down.”
At that point I thought I was gone for sure this time, but the paramedics explained to me that everything was going to be alright and that I was lucky they got to me in time. I finally arrive at the hospital. I was there all day, and then my dad showed up. He was mad at me. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t even speak to me. I wish I could’ve taken it all back and gone home with my dad when he asked me three days before.

Journal #53
I feel like my path has been chosen for me
Knives, drugs, mistakes and agony
Sitting behind these walls
Will I ever be free?
I am so far down the path
I’ve had my fair share of wrath
Trying to do right and always doing wrong
Stuck on stupid hitting the bong
Everyone tells me I am to blame
My whole life is a shame
Can I go the other way?
I am hoping, maybe, someday
I am better than this, wait and see
I can go the other way
Just watch me

Journal #54
One road, two paths.
Where am I at?
Which way should I go?
Should I follow?
Should I lead?
I'm my own type of person, with my own type of needs.
Should I change or should I stay?
Change for my new family, or stay for me.
Inside of me, I need to change;
but I still act a little insane.
I need to change.
Not just for me,
but to show the people who put me down,
I went all the way without a frown.
I'm a changed person.

Journal #55
I now realize that this isn't the right path I was destined to take. I can't stand this place! I miss my family, this place makes me just want to break down and cry. I've gotten into a lot of fights, but it wasn't the right thing to do, because in the end you still loose. They get you back, and then what do you do? The same? It never ends this fight over color or race. It's all the same, pointless. Your friends really couldn’t care less; it's those that tell you to stop that really care.
My mom is scared that I might get shot or stabbed. I was like," Blah, blah, blah." Now I can see why she told me all of that. I now can see that the pistol is right in front of me, pointed at my head. One mistake and I could get filled with lead. I'm stuck now, I want to go back and tell my mom I love her, without having her drive all this way just to see me. I want to scream out," I want out of this life!" But, suicide is not the answer. What won't kill me, will make me stronger. I plan to be strong enough to say no to the homies, and go the right path straight to my home. They say a person can never change their ways. If so, I will be the first to do it in my own way.

Journal #56
Going from elementary to middle school was always exciting for me. I was the one who always had the goals of finishing middle school and going to high school. I had my goals all planned out. I was already bragging about it.
First year in middle school was the best year. All A’s and B’s. I was always proud of myself and my grades. During the end of 7th grade, I started going out with boys and started ditching school, not caring about my grades or my attendance. Summer started and I had summer school, but I didn’t care about it anymore. I started drinking, going out late and started smoking weed.
8th grade started and I started smoking dope. My parents found out when I was arrested by the cops and put into a drug program. After that I was suppose to be on probation, but I kept ditching school and started getting into fights. I didn’t graduate from middle school, but I got into high school because the counselors were tired of seeing me in the office.
High school came and I started at ******* High School. Both of my sisters went to that school too. One was a senior and one was a sophomore. I got kicked out. I never went to school; I was always ditching and going to get high with my homies. I got dirty drug tests and I kept coming back to juvenile hall. Now I have six months, but I only sixty days left. Two more months and I’ll be home going to school and being a better person.

Journal #57
I’ve always thought of myself being successful in life until two years ago. I now think I am going nowhere. I feel as if the road to success isn’t success at all. It is prison and death. I don’t want to be on this path, but it is so much easier to go down. All I’m trying to say is I don’t like the path I am on, the road I wanted was blocked. It didn’t want me anymore. Until that road opens up again, I don’t know where I will be. I’ll either be dead or in prison just because of a slip up. Now I won’t see the grassy field or a family with kids. I’ll see bricks and barbwire fences.

Journal #58
My goal is to own a house
Instead of renting an apartment getting my food eaten by a mouse
But money ain’t what life’s really all about
So dry off your tears and blow out them boogers from your snout
Spit out them nugies from your mouth
Stay out of problems
Cause getting locked up doesn’t solve em
I only want the things that’ll get me through life
And when I say that I ain’t talking about no wife
Cause things like that don’t matter
I don’t care if or if not my pockets get fatter
As long as my cash stays decent
I’m incarcerated not recent
This is the life of someone who fouls
And makes money off the drugs that he sells
But I’d rather be working
Instead of being mad at the world while proving
I mean to make dollars at a job
Because all I do is keep getting locked up when I rob
I don’t want sight of another bong
All I’ve been threw I now know right from wrong


Journal #59
Hours are long, minutes are short
As the seconds pass, I like this place more
I know I'm bad, I know I'm wrong
Let's get together and sing this song
When I dream all alone, in my backyard getting stoned
I'm always dreaming of my home, with my girl on the phone
So roses are red, and violets are blue
When I leave here, I hope I'm new
I'm feeling crazy I'm feeling high
I'm smoking so much, and I wonder why
So I'm going to stop so my mom won't cry
Wipe those tears off of her eyes

Journal #60
Right now I am on the wrong path. I’m on a path that will take me either out of this world or to prison. I have made my way down this path with my own decisions. Nobody made me skip school or do drugs or any other kinds of bad decisions I have made. I now realize this because I have ended up in this detention center. My younger brother has been following my footsteps. Knowing this, it is one of the many reasons I want and need to change my path.
I need to be a better influence for him and to show him right from wrong. My only options at this point are a group home far away or to move to Oklahoma with family I barely know. These are the harsh consequences of my actions. If I’m lucky I might get another option with my friend’s mom to gain custody of me. She is trying just as hard as I am. She is my role model and the person who is helping me change my life around. I’m so thankful somebody wants to help. I know I can’t expect her to do everything for me. I need to take anger management and do all the other things required to let me change my life for the better and to try to help my brother.

Journal #62
I don’t know what to write. I’ve been in here for four months. I am in a gang and although I am down, at the same time I don’t want to end up in prison. Prison, I am right under it. The only reason I am not there is because I am only fifteen years old. I am supposed to do things normal fifteen year olds do, but I don’t. I fight, drink, sell, and carry a gun. I want to turn my life around. I want to get a real job. Prison is not for me.

Journal #63
I got a problem
with you
with my parents
with friends
with drugs
with crime
with probation
with cops
with myself
with the world
But I don't know why.