n. [Brit. wallesia] a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, which is your brain’s way of checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.
I have found the other half of my heart, the missing piece of my soul; the absent rhythm in my song. I am one of the many, many women who are in love with a man who is incarcerated. I, just like most people, never even thought about the subject, and never heard of anyone else in my situation, until I was in this situation. And now through web communities like PrisonTalk.com, I have become aware that there are so many others facing the same challenges as me. If you have a minute, I’ll give you a brief summary of how this happened, and how it has changed my life…
I was a normal 35-year old woman, going about my life. Single mother, work, etc. Then one night my best friend’s boyfriend suggested that I write to a buddy of his, who was in the same facility as him. On a whim, I looked up this guy’s offender details, and decided, “Why not?” I was in NO way looking for any kind of romantic relationship. (I had just gotten out of one that ended pretty badly a few months before.) But I figured I’d write this guy a letter, maybe become a pen-pal, and help him to pass the time he had left. Plus, it would give me something to do. Neither he nor I were prepared for what was to follow.
I wrote the first letter, and he wrote back. Kind of an introduction of sorts. Nothing too personal, with no promises of any kind. A couple nights later I got a phone call, from him. Needless to say, it seemed awkward at first, talking to a complete stranger. But by the end of that first phone call, I was left baffled by the things we had in common, the uncanny coincidences, and the ease with which he and I spoke to one another. We both had 12-year old sons, both named Joey. Our birthdays were 8 days apart, both Libras. Same favorite color, same favorite bands and taste in music, similar backgrounds, similar hobbies, similar goals. And when I told him my favorite car was a ‘69 Camaro Z-28, he said, “No way,” and two days later I received a drawing in the mail that he had done months earlier, of HIS favorite car… yep, you guessed it… a ‘69 Camaro Z-28.
Do you wanna know what happened next? If so, follow, and I’ll tell you. ;)
To Be Continued……..
It just makes me so angry that this injustice is happening. It’s as if the priorities of our judicial system are off. A man who has a kilo of marijuana will get more time in jail than a man who robbed a child of their innocence and trust. It just makes me- URGH! *takes a deep breath* I’m tired of injustice.
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Brooks Was Here ~ Mansfield Reformatory, Mansfield, OH
(Shawshank Redemption film site)
I reblogged this, because my boyfriend is currently incarcerated, and his last name is Brooks. <3 :)
What prisoners try to convey to the free is how the presence of time as something being done to you, instead of something you do things with, alters the mind at every moment. For American prisoners, huge numbers of whom are serving sentences much longer than those given for similar crimes anywhere else in the civilized world—Texas alone has sentenced more than four hundred teen-agers to life imprisonment—time becomes in every sense this thing you serve.
(Source: nortonn)
