Wow! This Blog thing is a challenge. How do I get people to connect with me? Maybe people are posting things on the sight. The problem is, I have no way of reading what’s being said. So, until I can connect with a friend who will correspond with me through JPay, our communications will be one-sided.
I am looking for a friend, somebody real who can truly connect with ME and willing to accept me for who I am, because that’s what I am going to give in return. I have been in prison for 22 years and I am tired of it. I need to get out of this place, even if it’s just through the bonding with someone who can offer me a mental and emotional escape.
I would like to meet a friend that can become motivated to pursue and achieve some dreams with me. A friend who can be objective enough to understand that just because I am incarcerated does not mean that I cannot change the world. I can! I need someone to believe in me.
The Long-Term Offenders’ Organization is my focus right now but it is not my only passion. Writing is my truest passion. It is my most liberating way of expressing myself. A few years ago, I wrote a couple of Novels, one is called, “There’s Hope For You Yet,” about a 38 year old Salon owner named Erica Dunlap who had almost given up on love until she found it in a 21 year old thug named Shawn ‘Butta’ Bradford. Butta is fresh out the joint, on a mission to get out the dope game to be a father to his 4 year old daughter. Here’s an excerpt:
“What is she doing in my apartment Chris?” I demanded, pointing at Brenda the Bitch.
“She’s helping me get my shit so I can get outta here.”
“And where are you going?” I asked, trying to sound calm and controlled. For some reason I was thinking about the deoderant commercial that says, ‘Never let them see you sweat.’
“If you must know, I am going to live with Brenda and my kids. We’re getting married in a few months, so we thought it would be best if we lived together now.”
I guess whatever deoderant commercial that was, I wasn’t wearing that brand because perspiration was running from my arm pits like condensation on a boiling tea pot, and the simple word ‘married’ had just blew my spout.
“Married?” I screamed. “Married? You date me for four years and now after two years, you want to marry that two bit piece of shit instead of me?”
Brenda the Bitch poked her head and left hand out from behind Chris again. “Yeah,” she said. “See my ring?” She extended her ring finger toward me displaying a cheap, tarnished band with a barely visible speck of diamond pasted on top. It looked like something ordered from a T.V. infomercial, ‘Buy 1 Get1 Free for the low price of $19.99.’ The bitch even had the nerve to look proud.
As Chris guided his fiance’ toward his bags, he said to me, “You were never my type Erica. I don’t like fat girls. You know that. You we’re good for my pockets and I appreciate that but you couldn’t possibly think I would’ve married your big ass. Come on now, get real.”
At that point, I had enough. All of the ‘fat asses, big bitches and thunder thighs’ comments were going to end here and now, along with this sorry nigga’s life. I had spent four years putting up with his verbal and emotional abuse. I had dealt with his affairs and the conception of his children with another woman. Not only was he going to pay for that, this nigga was about to pay for all the sorry ass niggas I have dealt with in my life.
As he went for his bag of belongings, I sprinted into the kitchen with speed that I didn’t’ know I had in me, going for the kitchen drawer. When Brenda the Bitch saw me pull out a turkey carving knife, she squealed at the top of her lungs like a mouse initially getting caught in a trap. I slowly approached the two of them with the crazed look of murder in my eyes, calculatng each step toward them, each projected slash of their throats. No one was going to make a fool of me anymore, and these two bitches were going to be my examples…
That was just a little bit of “There’s Hope For You Yet,” I’ll share an excerpt of my second novel, “Trade. A Thug on the Downlow,” in my next blog. I only have three stamps left after I send this one out, if I write too much now, I’ll have to use two stamps.
I would like a friend to make progress with. Write me at JPay.com and tell me what you think about “There’s Hope…”
Patrick O. Stokes
DOC #331-308
This is another blog from: LIFE WITH PATRICK.
Amazing story!