40 days served
Another day in jail. Another night down. I am still counting down the days one by one. There are no clocks here. The only ways to tell the time and date are by what time we are eating. I can look on the television too but only when it’s available. I talked to the guy I wrote about in previous entrees who was picking on me. I let him know the truth and aplogized for maybe going at it the wrong way. He was ok with it and even felt bad because he actually likes me. I think we both know that as much as I don’t and can’t make it in his world he doesn’t and can’t make it in mine. It is unspoken. I am not positive he feels that way, but can imagine, as he has been incarcerated for 15 years now in so many different settings. What do I know though? I do know that I leave in 11 days and I am feeling good about it. I just feel the same way I did 11 days before entering jail. I was meeting my nephew Noah for the first time in Florida, holding him, knowing I would have to change my life and how I go about the future to help my best friends raise him. I knew meeting him that it was time to lead by example. Coming to this jail in Saratoga, New York has given me time to think but maybe too much time. It has been time to leave. I feel bad for so many of these guys who have to stay longer. The drug war is so messed up.