homecoming. | EDITING

one

Justin.

It was finally the day. May 21, 2021.

I was leaving.

I'm not gonna make it seem like being here was the worst experience ever, cause it wasn't. I had some people that I grew a liking too, and we talked from time to time. I watched tv, I attended my mandatory classes, I worked out and I slept. It was just the anxiousness. What was going on back home? How was Maejor? And Angie? And even Jada and Khalil?

I'd snuck Maejor a few letters at the beginning of my sentence, but of course he couldn't write back. I eventually stopped writing because if I got caught then they'd lengthen my time here, just like a fucking prison.

I'd forgotten what my own house looked like, that's fucking sad. I didn't deserve to be here, honestly. I mean, yeah, I had a problem. But my problem wasn't as bad as most of the people here. Yeah, I liked my smoke and drink everyday, but these people were obsessed. They went crazy without it, and it scared the hell out of me at first. I prayed to God that I'd get let out early, but it never happened.

I passed time by going to the gym and hanging with my homie, Tyler. He was never going to get out of here, and he knew it. So I had nothing to lose by hanging with him.

I was 27 years old now, and I had learned my lesson. I never even wanted to see a bottle of beer or liquor ever again. I'd matured and I knew better, and finally, the day was here.

Ya boy was going home.