A hard-hitting story about ending up in gaol – a sharp reminder to count the blessings that you do have.
In prison. Doing a stretch. Locked-up. Banged-up. In chokey. And so on. Call it what you like. What you call it changes nothing.
“Make me an offer I can’t refuse”, I said.
And he did, and so I didn’t.
And so I’ve ended up here.
It’s that simple; that’s all it boils down to.
Fleshing out the bones wouldn’t amount to anything anyway.
I was stupid, I wasn’t thinking straight, I was hard up, I was calling someone’s bluff, I was greedy, I was bored, I was desperate, I was drunk, I was stoned, I wanted to please someone, I wanted to impress someone …
And so on. It doesn’t matter why, not really. No-one cares.
It doesn’t matter if the cause was this or the cause was that. Nothing is going to change and no-one’s going to try and change me.
Even if someone did try, if someone had a go at changing me, they wouldn’t succeed anyway. I’m me. I’m stuck with that.
So nothing changes and nothing will change.
And this fucking shitty fucking window with its fucking bars and fucking wire and fucking toughened plastic fucking glass won’t ever fucking change, not for all the years I’ll be locked up here.
So it goes.
And no-one cares.
So it goes. So it fucking goes.
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