Tag: Dear Diary

Dear Diary 3

~ korymcclary1221 ~ 1 Comment

Daily Affirmation: “I will surround myself with actions that match words, and I will give the love and loyalty I hope to receive.”


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Dear Diary,

Loyalty is an action. Love is an action. Yet, so many people throw these words around recklessly, spewing them from their mouths without any intention of standing by them.

If you love me, show me. If you’re loyal, how and to what extent?

The words loyalty and love carry weight; they leave marks on the heart. They’re impactful, shaping who we are and how we view the world. So why do people say these words without meaning them?

I’ve been told so many times, “I love you… I got you, bro… I’m going to hold you down.” And yet, not one person has lived up to their testament. Their dishonesty—or reckless use of these powerful words—left me hurt.

Over time, I’ve grown used to hearing empty promises. A callous has built around my heart, and all talk has become cheap. Don’t tell me; show me.

I strive to be a man of my word. If I say I love you, I’ll show you through my actions. That’s what real love and loyalty mean to me. But when others had the opportunity to show me love, they failed miserably.

I’m not crying about it, nor am I bitter. I’m simply aware now. I understand that love and loyalty are rare. And when I find them, I’ll hold on tight and place them in my heart forever.

Dear Diary,

If I died today in this lowly state, who would care? Who would pick up the work I’ve started and carry it forward?

I’m trying to build an empire. But how can I do it from here—with no love, no loyalty?

Sincerely,
Kory

Dear Diary, can love and loyalty truly exist in a world where actions often fall short of words?

Dear Diary 2

~ korymcclary1221 ~ 1 Comment

Daily Affirmation: “My past does not define me; my growth and vision for the future do.”

Dear Diary,
In prison, your only personal connection to the outside world is memories. Memories of what you used to do and who you used to be. And pictures of the old you keep those memories fresh.

Memories, memories.

My memories led to me getting sentenced to a century and some change. In hindsight, I wonder how I didn’t see it coming. I’m in pictures with shady characters, living life in the fast lane. In those pictures, I’m smiling—but I should’ve been frowning, knowing where I was headed.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Now, I have to build new memories and introduce new characters in my story called life. My past doesn’t define me—my growth does. And I see myself growing a family and creating memories with them.

So, sayonara to old friends, and here’s a toast to new memories.

Dear Diary, what memories are worth holding onto, and which ones are best left behind?

Dear Diary

~ korymcclary1221 ~ 1 Comment


Daily Affirmation: “I am resilient, guided by faith, and equipped to overcome every challenge in my path.”

Dear Diary,
What do you want to hear? How I’m feeling? Does anyone even care?
But since you’re here, I’ll tell you. I’m frustrated, anxious, worried, and oddly at peace—all at the same time.

Peace? Yeah, because I know I’m on a journey guided by God. I’m learning to fulfill what it means to be a man, step by step:

Emotional: I’m learning to keep my emotions in check.

Intellectual: My mind is sharp, but there’s still more to learn.

Social: Needs work—I’ll admit that.

Spiritual: I’m reconnecting with my faith, and it feels good.

Occupational: I’m a writer, author, and hustler, making something out of nothing.

Environmental: I hate where I am. Prison is a hard, dark place—no joke. But I’ve learned to navigate this world, and every smile I crack here is a testament to my resilience.

Physical: I’m injured. I don’t know what’s wrong, and I can’t work out the way I want to. That worries me.


And yet, I’m anxious because Governor Phil Murphy signed an executive order for expedited clemency reviews for cases like mine—extreme trial penalties.
Let me break it down: An extreme trial penalty is when a prosecutor offers you a plea deal (22 years, in my case), but if you reject it and lose at trial, you get slammed with a much harsher sentence. That’s what happened to me. I stood up for my right to a fair trial and got hit with 130 years.

The Governor said this practice is wrong, and I meet the criteria for his executive order. So I’m anxious—waiting. What will he do?
To be, or not to be free… That’s the question weighing on me.

Frustration? Oh, I’ve got plenty. The pace of my case against the stenographer is infuriating. It feels like they’re trying to sweep it under the rug. Here’s the thing:

The prosecutor was married to the stenographer at my trial.

My trial transcripts—the very record of what happened—are missing key parts.
They worked me. And now, I’m fighting to expose it.


Dear Diary, my thoughts are as tangled as my emotions. Some days, it feels like the fight will never end. But I’ve come too far to quit.

— If a plea deal could take your life away for standing up for your trial rights, what would you do? Talk to me in the comments — and subscribe so you don’t miss the next entry.