It would so easy. I picture it now; I can see it so clearly. As I stare at the gun in my lap, six inches of chrome colored death, another scene overlays my sight. It's so real I can feel the wood as I raise my hand to knock, I can hear the lock click as the door opens. I can see the surprise on the face I know so well, the one I had called brother. I can feel the gun kick, my hand goes numb. I hear the roaring boom. I see the blood splatter. It feels so real. Bitter hatred flows through me, the kind you feel upon betrayal. Filled with righteous fury, I knew the streets would not condemn me. To the contrary, the law of the street demands vengeance. As I teeter on the edge of the abyss, brimming with bloodlust and fury, a part of me commands me to think. To look beyond this moment, to look down the path of causality. I see a divergence, two paths stretching before me, balanced upon the fulcrum of this choice. One is filled with violence and blood, indulgence of primal desires. I want to go down this path so much it scares me. It would be the easier path. The other is achieved only through self-control and discipline. It is the path to a higher self, one where I rise above my baser instincts, my animalistic desires. Never before had I seen the future possibilities with such clarity, and never before had they forked so drastically. In that one moment I decided the entire course of my future. It is to my regret that I chose...
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Prison Thoughts
Non-FictionA collection of writings that I wrote while in prison. I will add one paper at a time, each a self-contained story, thought, or observation.
