12 years and I’m finally out. It’s startling to see how the world has moved on when you haven’t.
The sun was so bright the day I was released, I thought I might have blind spots for life. I was given some money and a small apartment to live in. After two days of cleaning and setting up the apartment, I went out in search of a job. Its been hard; no one is willing to hire an ex-convict. Its been a week now, and I’m still sitting in a café checking out the classifieds. I haven’t tried McDonald’s though, maybe I will soon.
I wasn’t prepared to miss Quill so much. I thought if I’m in London I wouldn’t see the Dublin streets we roamed together and get nostalgic. Instead, I see any dark brown haired woman, I think of her; I look at every couple and remember us. I don’t suppose I can approach her after 12 years asking her if we could get back together. She would have moved on too. I wonder if she ever thinks of me, I wonder what she thinks of me.
At least now I get to write in a real diary; small consolation.