On November 10, 1974 I was born to Vanessa and Martin. Instinctively, my fists were curled. Already, I knew I had many fights ahead. Hailing from a small town- Laurel, Maryland- in a neighborhood known as “Pumpkin Hill” was a boy seeking manhood. In this predominantly African American neighborhood, with sprinklings of whites and Latinos, whom looked like me, I experienced various inner roller coaster rides.

I was raised by a Great Aunt and Uncle, whom I called Granny and Grand Daddy, as they referred to me as “LoveBug” until their depressing deaths. Although separately, two huge parts of me left with them. I was taught to hate my father and was the rope in a tug of war battle that covered my youthful years. Admittedly so, they all did the best they knew how in raising me. I did begin drinking at the age of 3, taking sips of clear liquid left on the tables after long nights of card playing. This later turned into drinking beer under the supervision of loving family whom laughed at my drunken state.

For much of my childhood I was a fat boy with braces and wore glasses. Actively, I did participate in sports and some organized. Still, I flirted with the good and the bad and what was considered bad was usually appealing, even easy. Blessed, I was schooled in culturally diverse environments from grades K-12. Yet, ever present was the element of social status- especially in middle school and high school. The girls liked the guys who had the fast money, clothes, shoes, cars, and athletes. Though I was provided for, I never had the best and new quickly faded to old.My Vietnam did instill discipline in me via abuse, which ultimately led to me graduating high school. But still, that was not enough. I did odd jobs off and on but the lure of the streets grabbed me.

It was a status symbol to have been arrested, locked up, or to be criminal. I did my small part as it was and received some of what I desired. Shortly, a few smacks on the wrist followed with the law. On a small scale I achieved noticeable success in drug dealing. And what was fun became serious with the attached jealousy. Attempts at to escape and cope via marijuana, cigarettes, alcohol and PCP weren’t effective.

I am a Maryland State Prisoner in the Special Management Unit of the federal prison system in the fifteenth year of a LIFE + 24-year sentence. NOPE, NONE OF IT WAS WORTH IT!

There’s so much more to my story and I intend to share it with you here on LIVEFROMLOCKDOWN.COM