I was sentenced to death on June 12th, 2003, at the age of 25. My first journal entry was made in August 2005, and I was just 27 years old. During those first two years, I was going through a lot of emotional turmoil; I had no real sense of self, or how I had come to find myself in the place I was. I had reached rock bottom in the past, but never really managed to climb back up; every attempt I made to grab at a rock just lead to a mis-step, and I would tumble back down again. But still I focused on going forward, rock by rock, and day by day.
I've always been a writer, but I had never used it as a tool to look inwardly until one of my closest friends suggested I begin to keep a journal. I would send my entries to him as a means of release, but the more I shared with him, the more convinced he was that I should share them with a wider audience. At first he published them on his own website, and there was such a positive response that it lead to the first incarnation of my own website.
Over the years, my website has been through several other incarnations, and through many pairs of hands. As a result, some journal entries have been lost, and there are gaps; but I've done my best to continue to add updates and new journals regularly, and to continue to examine myself, my life, and to share my thoughts.
I've been through a lot over the many years I've spent on death row; I've had some setbacks and I've faltered...However, I believe that my basic humanity has blossomed and grown, and the person I've discovered I truly am, is a decent and loving one.
I hope you will take the time to read my writings, learn about me and the many other decent human beings on death row, reserving your judgement until you've read everything. I like to tell people that "life isn't a lesson in futility"...If we can own up to our mistakes and shortcomings and learn from them, maybe even teach others how to discover their own humanity, then no mis-step in that climb back up from rock bottom is a waste.
Some names have been changed to protect identities in some of my writings, and whilst memory can often be misleading, the events I remember and write about are true as I remember them.