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Home | Blogs | dabshear's blog

Inmates Write

Dan Abshear- in jail for three months in 2015:
 

A few men here in jail with me look much older than their actual age. And this is fascinating to me.



This possibly may be due to their in-home doses of severe drugs. Their accelerated age may also be due to various life tragedies they have experienced. These prematurely aged men are very pleasant people to speak with I have found. Yet I do in fact see pain in their eyes as I interact with them. Myself I am told look 10 years or more younger than my actual age. So perhaps some people tolerate intensive trauma better than others so it seems. I seem to explore and examine trauma as I encounter it. Maybe that lessens the utter trauma inflicted upon me. I gain strength from that which does not destroy me and I always will.

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The following is from a friend named Jared Orf. He died of a heroin overdose the day he was released from jail:



Cell 2



How can I be a man to be admired? I only fit in with cracks, thieves and liars. I do the things I do and barely get by. And I really don't care who I make angry, hurt or cry. Because I just like to get high. I take for granted what it is to be free. Now the legal system makes an example of me. And I think what will it take for me to learn? And I sigh. I'll just keep getting locked up or die. Cause I live to get high. The wrongs I have done have taken their toll on me. My drug of choice still has a hold on my soul. I don't ever lie to myself anymore. As soon as I'm free some more I will score. I wish I had never tried that sh*t on that day. That one weak moment...just take it away. Some people think it is a disease to be addicted. And others just seem confused or conflicted. So I'll do what I do and barely get by. Or I'll keep getting locked up until I die. Because now I live simply to get high. 



Another friend, Steve Sliger wrote the following. His brother died in a car accident 10 years ago:



We were born in this sh*t. So why wouldn't we be good at it? Labeled two bad kids, for each other we lived. For 24 years he and I knew no fear. From neither man nor beast nor rest in peace. Side by side we did ride. Through bitter ends and back again my brother knew his time was short. With my own blue eyes looking back at me he begged me to see my last resort and stop a pole horse. Among the strongest of men brought down by my sin, his best shots went wild. And before I landed, he died. A baptism of fire , broken lies and screaming tires. The cries of those lost from love poured out from above. Life demanded strength but to my knees I sank. My baptism in tears to continue through my years. The truth - a f*cking heavy sight to see. As I pick up responsibility and lay blame squarely on me Without me he faced the reaper. Now I remain my brother's keeper. All my love in memory of Timothy Ray Sliger 3-8-78 ti 5-4-05.