Dear Diary: The Introduction

Dear Diary,

I never planned for you to become a book. You were supposed to be a place where I could put the thoughts I couldn’t always say out loud. A place where I could dump my frustrations, questions, fears, hopes, ambitions, mistakes, memories, and dreams.

Some days I write because I’m angry. Some days I write because I’m lonely. Some days I write because I’m trying to understand myself. And some days… I write because I have something to say.

For years, I’ve lived behind walls, locked doors, steel bars, and restrictions. But I’ve learned something about incarceration: A body can be cuffed without a mind being cuffed.

So I write. I write about freedom because I want it. I write about love because I miss it. I write about God because I’m searching. I write about justice because I question it. I write about my past because I can’t change it. And I write about my future because I refuse to let my past have the final word.

These pages aren’t meant to make me look perfect. I’m not perfect. You’ll find some contradictions in this joint. You’ll find anger. You’ll find humor. You’ll find pain. You’ll find faith. You’ll find profanity. You’ll find poetry hiding inside paragraphs and philosophy hiding inside jokes.

You’ll find the man I was, the man I am, and the man I’m fighting to become.

Sometimes I’ll sound like a philosopher. Sometimes I’ll sound like a gangsta. Sometimes I’ll sound like a man in chains. Sometimes I’ll sound like a free man.

And maybe that’s the point. Because I’m all of those things at once.

Dear Diary is my conversation with myself, but I’m inviting you to listen. Every entry begins with an affirmation because I need to remind myself that circumstances don’t get the final word. Every entry ends with a question because I’m still searching.

Searching for answers about freedom. About love. About justice. About God. About purpose. About who the hell I’m supposed to become after spending so much of my life behind these walls.

I don’t expect you to agree with everything I say.

I don’t even agree with everything I’ve written. That’s what makes this a diary. These pages capture a man in motion. A man in thought. A man healing. A man fighting.

So come inside. Not the prison. My thoughts.

These are the thoughts that live between the walls. These are the questions that keep me tossing and turning in my sleep. These are the dreams that refuse to die.

This is my ink on white paper. This is my struggle. This is my freedom. This is my philosophy.

Dear Diary… I’m finally letting you read me.

Peace

Tomorrow, all twelve entries in order: read “Dear Diary: Every Entry, In Order” — korymcclary.com/2026/11/10/dear-diary-every-entry-in-order/