I was somewhat relieved when I got locked up – I needed some rest.

As I lay in my bunk, I resigned myself to the pain as heroin withdrawal made its appearance.  The powerful pull of addiction would have made me pull the door off the hinges if I’d had the strength, but I didn’t.  I gave in because I was tired of fighting.

Then came the crippling sensation that a huge hole was being punched through my chest, excising my vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time.  Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air, my head spinning from the effort that felt as if it was yielding me nothing.  My heart must have been beating, but I couldn’t hear the sound of my pulse in my ears.  My hands felt blue with cold.  I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together.  I scrambled for numbness and denial, but it evaded me.

Yet, I found I could survive.  I was alert.  I felt the pain – the aching loss that radiated from my body, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs and head – but it was manageable somehow.   I could live through it.  It didn’t feel like the pain weakened over time, but rather that I grew strong enough to bear it.

Whatever it was that happened that day – whether it was past memories of withdrawal or the situation I found myself in – I came to an understanding of what I wanted for my future.  It woke me up.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to expect in the morning.  It was a new beginning…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.  John Saenz is a talented writer with a smooth, honest style, and I hope to share a lot more of his work.  He is serving a Life Sentence in Texas and can be contacted at:
John A. Saenz #1113101
Ramsey Unit
1100 FM 655
Rosharon, TX  77583