Wednesday, 1 June 2011

Listen... its not long

I have a tremendous amount of time on my hands.

Time that i try to use as constructively and positively as i can.

Every other day, i work out.

This is good for me physically and mentally, it keeps me in good shape,
and keeps my mindframe and train of thought on the straight an narrow.

There isn't a day that goes by that i don't spend a good few hours
hunched over in my cell, sweating, contorting my hand and wrist in
a zoned out haze of concentration..sketching.

 Feeble attempts at twisting familiar letter combinations
into new charicatures and shapes, knocking out birthday cards for a couple
tunas, most days i will try to create something.

i have been spending an increasing amount of time in solitary company
up in the castle.

 Some of this time is sadly spent very unproductively,
rehashing past events, thinking about all the things and people i took
for granted, horse shit like that.

It's almost like a form of torture, it just leaves me feeling
miserable and imbolised.

Great stuff!

i'm only human.

I make mistakes.

There is no point in me living in a constant state of regret and imobolisation.

It helps no one.

Not me, nor the people i didn't appreciate or treat them how they deserved.

All i can do is try to be a better person, and i am trying.

 Time alone in my cell also yields positive results,
i think about my behaviour and try to re-evaluate the way i
communicate with people, particularly my closest freinds and

I am under a fucking ridiculous amount of stress,
and regrettably have been taking it out on those
closest to me.

I am sorry.

I feel exhausted by this whole ordeal.

i find myself snapping at people that care
about me, who are only trying to help me and get
me the fuck out of this EPIC toilet.

Considering the amount of people that ran the fuck out
on me when i needed them, i should be showing the ones
that represented how grateful i am for their unconditional
support of me and my Turkish balls.

They are not obliged to help me.

They don't owe me a motherfucking thing.

Sometimes i wonder why they have so much faith in me,
what it is i have done to deserve their love and support.

Replying to one of my recent idiotic, childish outbursts,
one of my freinds asked me the question..

"Why do you keep fucking up?"

Who knows

There is no question as to whether i am the one who fucked
up all the things that i was lucky enough to be blessed with in
my life, whether it was my life in the terror domre, my jobs,
my freedom, or even my marriage.

i fucked it up.

As a man, I must take responsibility for my actions.

Each day that passes, i am trying to more forward and
better myself as a person.

Don't get it fucked up, i'm not a bad guy, i just know
that i can and will be better.

i make very spontanious decisions, sometimes
they don't work out quite as well as i had planned.

No shit huh.

I can't answer the question as to why i keep fucking up,
nor can i answer why after all my fuckups, people are still
around and want to be part of my journey through life.

Whatever the case may be,
i know what it is i need to do to improve,

One of those things,
is i need more patience.

Being held INDEFINITELY in a maximum security
holding facility in New York City seems the place where
i have been destined to expand my capacity for patience.

I'm far from perfect,
i have many flaws, but i want to let the people in my life
know that i'm working on them, i am trying.

Please bare with me.

Like everything else in my life right now,
it's a work in progress.

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