....Only, as time moves forward and my freedom can be seen in the distance, time seems to be growing more and more difficult. As avid supporters die out, and I receive sporatic letters from names I'd nearly forgotten, images of the past and visages of the future are the life that keeps me sane. Talking to my dearest mother, the most supportive I know, for forty five minutes a week, keeps me aware that life outside these walls still exists. I only need to keep myself from falling into the waves of negativity that wash through the inmates day by day.
to be continued......
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