My Story Pt. 8
Image source. This is actually Knox County Jail. I think while they were still building it.
Knox Count Jail
So after having a cop look into parts of me that I've never seen into before they took almost all of the personal shit we brought from Vigo.
Once we were fully processed they put us in these cells that were immediately different from Vigo.
I think the first thing that stood out was that it was clean and warm.
Followed by there being two levels to the cells on a block.
The upper cells were made out of I believe fiberglass inside. All one form molded.
It became apparent to me quickly that this place was owned and ran by klan and meth.
They would let white meth heads out own recognizance all the time or with small fine. They would come back again and again and get released again each time.
Within a couple days there was a black guy brought to our block. When they threw him in and shut the door it was almost like they expected us to maul him or something.
He was literally built like a short ox. He was pretty short but super ripped.
He immediately starts poppin off. Talkin shit to the highest degree. Actin real hard.
Couple days into it the guards pulled him outside in the hall...
All you hear and feel is their punches and him hitting the wall for several minutes.
He comes back in bloody and fucked up. Eyes on the floor, goes straight to his cell.
Didn't say a word for couple days. Not one word to any of us. He just sat in his cell. Came down to get meal tray then hid up there.
Nobody really wanted to say anything but it was felt.
He was alone in a sea of white when that happened.
It was gruesome.
I went up to his cell after a couple days of him being silent...
Sat down with him whether he wanted me there or not...
He started to pop off, this time with less confidence.
I told him it wasn't right what they did to him.
Told him the guys on our block ain't after him and they all felt like it was fucked up too.
He warmed up to talking to me then unloaded it all....
Told me tons of shit about his life. Man, it's fucked up that people grow up like this guy. I felt for him.
My story is pretty fucked up and people have told me my whole life that it should be a book or a movie...
But this guy man...
His story should really be told. I wish I knew more to tell.
He could barely read or write. When he wrote he spelled words the way they sounded when people spoke them in inner city slang. He literally didn't know anything outside of hustlin, gettin high, and fuckin. I mean nothing, not very little.
He had no people skills, could not read or write, just one singular focus that split to those 3 things as it expressed.
No one taught this man a damn thing. I could see clearly in his eyes that he was not stupid. He was just never given the chance to be smart.
Locked in a gang bangin bubble since birth.
I tried to give him a hug, he was to hard for that shit at first.
Til I told him that actin tough when he really needed a fuckin hug was only hurting his ass. That a hard muthafucka in my book was the muthafucka willing to take a hug when he needed one and not hide from it like a pussy.
After sitting with that for a few moments he came in for a seemingly lifetime needed hug.
Real good healing hug as this short, beast of a man, balled his eyes out on my shoulder for a long time. He released so damn much in that hug. I have a feeling neither of us will forget it.
Look guys... if you don't know the power that a real hug holds, it's likely because you've been to pussy to fucking get one.
I'm not talking about that "hey, been a long time" hug. I'm talking about that long ass hug you only seem to get at funerals.
We are supposed to get, and give, that hug from time to time people.
Don't make it take a damn funeral for you to get one.
Stop being a pussy and fucking let it out.
You think you're tough now and you haven't done the most strengthening thing you could ever do.
Thus making you now, and until you can... a fucking pussy.
The very second this ox of a man let it out and took that hug, he went from being a fucking pussy... to having strength he never knew was inside him.
After that the guy was pretty cool. He didn't pop off and was getting along with the rest of the block. He was from a much different life than me and hadn't been taught much, like how to write or read well.
I ended up helping him write some letters to his girl on the outside. It was an interesting situation.
At the end of the day all the fuckin guy needed was a hug.
and I guess someone real enough to give him one.
So go get and give some hugs you fuckin pussies.
It makes me cry just thinking about your broken ass and how much you really need one.
To be continued...
My Story Pt. 8 | Knox County Jail
by Michael David
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