In these writings I am explaining some of my past and about how I got in this place and about life in here. Also I am showing some of my drawings and how I just started to discover how to paint with the kiddy paint they sell in here.
I would like to say, I am not the best of writers. At the time I entered Deathrow I was more or less illitarate. I have done the best I can to try to explain things and I hope I have done a good job. I have been as honest as I can be, relying on my memory that isn’t the best after 24 years. My memories aren’t the same as other. I could have written everything to fit with everyone else’s memories, but that would be lies, and I do not want to go with other peoples memories of the events. So, their memories aren’t the same as mine. Some of the things you will read aren’t pretty. The murder of Mrs. Franklin is bad. I have done my best to be as respectful as I can, but there are facts that I speak of that, well, they are just facts.
Then there is my past life. The way I was as a young wild teenager, with no structure at all, and who did nothing but drink. Who started drinking at the very early age of 11 years old. I have done many things in my past which I am not proud of and feel shame over. I wasn’t perfect. I’m still not perfect, but I am not that young and dumb wild teenager anymore. I have grown and I have grown for the better. But I am still full of faults. I have flaws. I have scars, I have memories I wish to forget.. I have not had an easy life, some of which you will read. I just ask that you keep an open mind, and not see me as that young fool I was many years ago. I hurt people. I hurt people I loved, that loved me. I am not the same person I was then.