“A lot of people in your situation don’t get a second chance at life. We don’t want to see you back in here again. Are we clear on that?” the guard asked as he handed me a bag filled with the belongings I had when I arrived.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, not intending to ever be back as long as I could help it.

I took the bag into a small bathroom, changed my clothes and handed my uniform to another guard, who tossed it into a huge basket to be laundered and made available to the next person who walked through those doors with a build similar to mine.

I was ushered outside the building and into a small gated area, where I joined several other men who appeared just as eager as I was. It was hard to believe that the day had finally arrived. It sure as hell didn’t feel like I was ever going to make it.

The first thing I did was suck in as much of the crisp morning air as my lungs would allow me to take. Sure, I’d been outside nearly every day of my stint, but the atmosphere tasted better on that morning that it had tasted in a long time. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that in just moments, I’d be walking out of those prison gates as a free man. The only thing separating me from my freedom was a guard checking each ID was last time to ensure that the only men leaving were the ones who were actually supposed to go.

If I had one regret at the moment, it was that I didn’t think to pack any clothes in the event that I was released anytime other than summer, which was when I was sentenced and began my sentence.

I was a wearing a pair of jeans and a white, thin cotton t-shirt that provided zero resistance to the cold, wintery wind that was attempting to cut straight through my body. My muscles flexed involuntarily, making me feel like I was being chilled to the bone.

I’d made a name for myself in prison with my hard demeanor. I never caused any trouble, but that was because I never needed to. My size was enough to keep most people at bay and the ones who looked like they wanted to take a shot at me? I made it clear that it wouldn’t be a very good idea.

Now my touch demeanor was about to deteriorate all because my body wanted to be an asshole. I tried to fight it off but I couldn’t. I started shivering like a damn child, teeth clenched to keep them from chattering together.

The clothes on my back didn't even fit properly. My t-shirt strained against my skin and my jeans, which were relaxed fit when I entered, were far too tight. I attempted to shove my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, but it wasn’t happening. I was able to get them in as far as the knuckles, but there was no room for my hands after that.

I watched in awe as the gates slowly rolled open. Freedom had finally arrived. Almost as if on cue, the former inmates, most of whom had been relatively quiet, began running their mouths at the guards as they walked by. I found it funny how they’d had nothing to say inside but were undoubtedly turning into tough guys. I heard every curse word and insult in their arsenal, but I wasn’t going to take part in any of it. That wasn’t me.

Focusing my eyes on the pavement, I quickly made my way out, distancing myself away from the idiots. I looked around and watched as they all made their way into the arms of people who cared for them. Wives, girlfriends, parents, relatives. With few exceptions, someone was waiting for them. It was a luxury that I didn’t have. All I could do is walk away. Alone.

It was strange to be unnoticed, especially considering my size and stature. Standing at 6’4” and weighing close to 260 pounds, the majority of which was solid muscle. I’ve never been a small guy. In my life, I’ve always preferred to jobs that kept me outside doing hard, manual labor. Sitting behind a desk or pushing papers are things that would never work for me.

During my prison sentence, the only thing I had was time. Thinking all the time drove me crazy, so I chose to workout instead. If I had free time, I was working out. It helped me stay out of trouble. I already had a pretty solid form when I went to jail, but I came out cut and chiseled. I was easily in the best shape of my life.

When I got sent to prison, I thought I was going to be like all of those other prisoners when it was time to be released. I had people who loved and cared for me as well. At least, I thought I did. The people I always thought would be there for me, turned their backs on me when I was inside. I noticed it happening when letters weren’t being returned, and phone calls weren’t being answered. I tried to tell myself that people get busy, but after a while, it became obvious what was happening. They were still living their lives and had no time for a fuck up like me.

Since I didn’t have anyone to pick me up in their warm car, I was left to walk. I didn’t know what my future had in store for me. All I knew was what I was doing that night. Everything else would be taken day by day.

I was confident of one thing and one thing only. After so many shitty prison trays, I needed to get a real meal in my stomach. If I had things my way, the next meal I ate would consist of a huge steak and a much-needed shot of Jack Daniels.

The only things I had to my name were the clothes on my back, a bag with a change of clothes that weren’t going to fit me any better than what I was already wearing, and a bit of cash that was leftover from my prison account. I didn’t buy much from commissary because I knew I’d need every penny I could get when I got out.

Everything else was going to be for me to figure out. While everyone I knew and cared about had forgotten all about me, I was fortunate to have one friend who didn’t care what anyone else thought and stood by my side from the beginning. A true friend that was willing to give me a bed to sleep in and a job at the construction company he owned. All I had to do was get to him.

In a world where everything else seemed dark and bleak for me, I was grateful to have at least one person in life who refused to turn his back on me. I’d never had any real family. Having grown up in a series of foster homes which made it no secret that I was only there so they could collect a check, I never knew what it was like to have a real family connection.

The only time a foster family honestly gave a shit was on my 18th birthday, and that was only because they wouldn’t be able to collect any more money from the government for taking care of me. They couldn’t get me out the door fast enough.

I don’t like to use it as an excuse because as a man, I realize I am responsible for my own actions, but I can’t help but feel that my upbringing had a lot to do with the bad choices I’ve made in life. Those bad decisions were followed up by even worse choices. What could have been different? What if I had been raised by loving parents who could have raised me better. Would I have still ended up in prison? Maybe, but I think it would have been a lot less likely.

Instead, I followed a dark path that saw me spend my days working at whatever construction site would have me and my evenings sitting in bars, getting wasted and seeing what kind of trouble I could get myself into.

Unfortunately, trouble found me one night when I wasn’t even looking for it. I’d had a bad day at work, and this asshole at the bar would not stop running his mouth. I ignored it as long as I could, but eventually, I couldn’t take his constant tirade, and I snapped. The end result of me losing my temper was five years in the state pen.

All I wanted to do was shut the guy’s mouth. I never intended to put him in a coma. It was just a fight at the bar. There was no malice on my part, but that didn’t stop the state prosecutor’s from charging me with attempted murder.

I was determined to fight the charge and clear my name until I found out I was looking at 40 years in prison if I were to lose. I couldn’t afford a reasonable attorney and the public defender assigned to me didn’t even try to hide the fact that if the case went to trial, I probably wouldn’t come out on time.

Instead, I accepted a plea deal that allowed me to avoid going to trial and only put me behind bars for five years instead of four decades. Even if it wasn’t intentional, I did commit the crime so I was willing to suck it up and do the time.

You always hear a lot of horror stories about prison, but it wasn’t as bad for me as it is for some people. A lot of inmates who may have flexed their muscles at a smaller guy left me alone because I had size on my side. Still, I was smart enough to stick to myself and not go looking for trouble.

Now that I was a free man, I wanted to do things a bit differently. No longer was I interested in being rebellious. Instead, I wanted to focus on actually being a contributing member of society. There was just one problem. I had no fucking idea of how to do that. All I could do was focus on keeping my ass out of trouble.

The reality of it all was that I wasn’t actually a bad guy. I wasn’t even all that much of a troublemaker. I just had a low tolerance for bullshit, and when people started shit with me, I made sure that I was the one to finish it. I guess you could say that I never really played well with others.

All of that was behind me. I was leaving it all in the past. My buddy was going to let me crash at his place while I worked to save up a little money to find a place of my own. After that, there was nothing but potential for me.