Free Free Free, my update.

I received an email, this blog in particular is receiving quiet a few views lately. It is on another feed where it has 30 new followers. I guess I would like to say Thanks. I don't know if it is because of Orange Is The New Black or what is up, why this post is getting so many hits? I removed the address from the previous post as I am now free. When I sent this out to my sin to blog he was supposed to post it in my old blog instead he made a whole new blog. I was contemplating with a friend whether or not to post anymore on here since I have another blog already, am in the process of revising the book I wrote while in jail. Yes I wrote a book, a novel in jail. I did not write my life story as some people do when they are in jail. I wrote a fiction novel. Creating wonderful, and beautiful characters while I did my time. The characters helped me because some of my family is in the characters and in a way it made me feel closer to my family since phone calls and letter were rare. Oh the letters were not rare going out. I loved writing to people. I have all the letters I wrote everyone in my family except my dad and Grandma's, they are the only ones who kept them. Everyone else gave my letters back and I have a big box of my writing in my closet. I have yet to open the box and read through some of them. I don't know if I am ready to go back there yet. Those days of laying on my THANK GOD bottom bunk and wondering what I would do with my life upon release. Days of penning down thoughts. Days of seeing the beauty in a blade of grass. Days of wishing for something besides recycled air to breathe. Days of loving the sky. And the day I was given my bus ticket and ride to the bus station. It was my first time on a greyhound. And truthfully it is one of the only ways I travel now. I remember when I first rode it to freedom, looking at the small towns in amazement. Looking at people milling about their everyday lives. Looking at people who didn't even know in their vicinity there was a whole lot of pain of women who had everything taken from them for mistakes they made in life. Women who will never be looked at the same by society because of their mistakes. Yes, I have a past. But I can not bury my time there on the inside because I met some beautiful souls. It is over but like PTSD it comes back when I realize how many still have so much time. I am here, they are there. Last names fade but time shared, emotions raw, laughter survived, tears flowed. The one thing on the back of everyone's mind is home.