Dear Diary 10

Affirmation: I am healing at my own pace, growing in silence, and preparing for the freedom I know is mine.

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while.

But sometimes, a while is a good thing.

Time creates space. And a lack of space breeds familiarity. Familiarity can make people forget your value.

Not saying you’d ever disrespect me, Diary, but I can’t give you all of me.

At least not so fast.

Be patient with me.

My feelings and emotions need healing. You say you can never heal what I never reveal?

Well…

I’ll reveal it slowly.

So you should know, a lot has changed since I last expressed myself between your lines—and somehow, a lot has remained the same.

For starters, I’m still in this joint, toiling to be free.

My clemency petition?

I don’t know if it’s still under consideration. The last governor left office without signing it. So now I’m hoping the new governor shows a nigga some mercy.

But while I wait, I work.

I’m still writing like crazy.

I’ve published a few more news articles. And a couple of weeks ago, I self-published my second book, For Poetry.

And that shit is dope.

I’m getting better at the logistics of self-publishing, too. Every book teaches me something new—not just about writing, but about building something that belongs to me.

My next goal?

For Fiction, Book Two by October.

Then I’m giving everything I’ve got to For Freedom.

Hopefully, by this time next year, it’ll be sitting on bookshelves instead of sitting on top my desk.

I’m also reaching my hands beyond the walls, trying to get published in news publications outside of Prison Journalism Project.

We’ll see how that goes.

But one thing I know for sure:

I’m still fighting for my freedom.

And that fight doesn’t stop until I’m free.

And when I get free?

I’m coming back for the guys.

It’s personal.

This system is a dirty beast. But David didn’t beat Goliath because Goliath was weak. He beat him because David had faith, courage, and the right weapon in his hand.

With the help of the Lord, I believe I can slay this motherfucker, too.

I’m waiting on one more factor before I make my move toward checkmate in that courtroom.

I pray it falls into place soon.

Until then, I’m still jailing.

Reading.

Writing.

Working.

Thinking.

Planning.

Keeping my shit together.

Oh, Diary…

The fight never ends.

The struggle is always in effect.

And no matter how long or how hard they try to keep me trapped, there ain’t no giving up in me.

I’m always plotting and planning—not just for myself, but for the betterment of my people.

Because freedom isn’t just about getting out.

It’s about what you do once you get out.

And when that day comes, I intend to have something worth walking into.

Peace,

Blaq

Dear Diary, what if the space between where I am and where I’m going is exactly where I’m supposed to become the man who can handle freedom?