Sweet Tooth I always had a sweet tooth, as my mother would say. One of my earliest childhood memories was stealing candy with my then partner-in-crime from her dad's kiosk. As we leaped into the rain from the musky little steel shop, giddy with the thrill of danger, she took out the small piece and bit it in half. A casual observer then would perhaps have seen our youth as filled with sweet innocence and summers playing in the yellow painted stone labyrinth we called our home but we knew better. We always knew better. Fast forward about a decade and a half give or take and there I was, freshly clothed in the standard lime green of [DELETED] Regional Correctional Facility and I couldn't help but feel that same giddiness. An exciting new chapter was beginning in my life. I had heard all the tales and horrors about jail like everyone else, perhaps more so because I'd been finishing 2 years of probation and had developed an obsession about the prison industry. Now I got to experience it firsthand. I'm not a bad person, I don't think. In fact, I would venture to almost say I'm a pretty good guy with a pretty decent life compared to most people on this planet. The truly unfortunate may even say I'm blessed. But I always wanted more and I always wanted it better than I had. How could I not, spending hours a day watching all those rap starts and celebrities leading a fabulous lifestyle? I wanted it all and more, hell, I needed it. I didn't grow up poor but I wanted to be rich, that's just the kind of person I am. I guess being rich would mean the end of feeling like I had misspent my life. The end of feeling like I was more than just one fuckup after another. Yet there I was, lying in my jail bed with a grey blanket, one bed sheet and a thin foam mattress between me and the metal. Even then I knew the good days were yet to come. ___ Just getting an initial reaction haha and if you guys want me to write more i will.