As I entered the police barracks, I walked through two rooms, and on the one side, I saw david, sitting down, and I went to go for him, and start to speak, but my hands were strapped tight, and the officer escorting me yanked me off by them. I felt like crying on the inside…I felt like screaming on the outside…

Its not the first time I've been in a holding cell… in fact, not even the second time. It seemed as though I was horribly rotten, on the inside and out. I was stripped down to my wife-beater and pants… freezing. The benches were approx. 8in. wide, and blue… of all colors. I started to rouse the cops, even though it was against my best interest. I couldn't just sit there, I was high from the shit, and hung over…waiting to get my punishment. I started spitting… on the ground, out the 1/2in. squares, and all over…just to see. A man came up to me, and started yelling about it, I kept on smiling as though I didn't hear him.

"Shut the fuck up you bald haired bastard!" I remember saying this, but the rest of it was too horrible to repeat. Making up lies about myself, and yelling things like GONERHEA! I think back to it, and realize how much of a prick I was…am. So they call my mother, and tell her to come get me. I waited and waited…hours passing by me. I finally bunkered down to the bench laying on my side, barely able, and fell asleep…five hours later I awoke, my mom had finally come. I stood up…somewhat relieved, but not really.

"Clean the spit," Was an order. I had five tissues crumbled up rubbing the ground with them…and I exited to small cell. We were walked over to a long table in another room, accompanied by a police officer. It turned out he was an old next door neighbor. He knew my family and their bad reputation, especially my dad. He had small talk with my mom, and I said something I shouldn't have, so he took all three of my fines, and wrote "refused to sign" on all three. Mother fucker…

I left that situation, and never looked back…until the next day I left school to reunite with David, Stevie, and Nick.

Another day of out-patient and I think I'll die…Another day of that and I ask myself why…

As Mobb Deep said it;

"Sometimes I wish I had three different faces
I'm going to court for three cases in three places
One in Queens Manhattan one in Brooklyn
The way things is looking I'm 'ma see central bookings
Facing 3, 3 to 9's is mad time
After reconcurrence for assault 2 9
I gotta maintain 'cause stress on the brain
Can lead to a mothefuckin suicide thing
And plus my probation, a ill violation
How the fuck did I get in this tight situation? "

And sometimes, ya just don't care.

Thats all for now folks, im just not feelin it anymore... sorry (maybe i'll continue if i get enough motivation, but life is too detailed to write it all on paper)