Today is my birthday. The sun outside is shining and while it’s not summer as of yet the cold has lost its winter bite. I’m 34 now. Another year passed as I franticly attempt to rebuild my life. Sometimes I feel like I’m running in place, trying to play catch up, as I attempt to finish the life tasks most complete in their twenties. It’s been a good year though. I have a woman who loves me and a 16 year old son who, while frustrating sometimes, makes me so proud.
I go to school fulltime for business. My goal being the attainment of a graduate degree. My classmates see me as a clean cut, handsome (if I do say so myself), athletic young man. I enjoy dressing well and taking care of myself. Most see me as a nice guy.
What they would never guess, is that this isn’t the person I used to be. As a youth I was young, rash, and violent. I cared for no one but myself and loved nothing so much as the feeling of a gun in my hand. Armed robbery, burglary, dealing drugs, selling guns, I did anything and everything I could to make myself feel powerful and in control. I was a bad person, who cared nothing of anything but myself. It wasn’t long before my lifestyle caught up with me.