Tag: FaithAndFighting

Dear Diary 10

~ korymcclary1221 ~ 1 Comment

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?

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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.