January 12, 2015. ⛓️ The day I came home after doing 51 months straight. Locked up at 21. Released at 25. My first prison bid. While I was away, my mom took in my pitbull 🐶❤️ I was scared he wouldn’t remember me. The second I walked in, he knew exactly who I was. That moment still hits me. She told me he was her dog now — and she was right. He lived a long, happy life with her. 15 years. Loved till the end. 🕊️ My mom made sure I always had money on the phone 📞 My dad made sure I had money on my books 💵 Pictures. Letters. Support — even when I didn’t deserve it. My brother… that was different. Anger. Disappointment. Pain. He wrote me one letter, six months before I came home. Telling me how much time I wasted. How I missed watching his daughter grow up. How prison robbed us of a relationship we were finally old enough to have. That letter broke me 💔 — and still does. I wish I could say I got it right after that bid. I didn’t. I was home 18 months. Toxic thinking. Self-destruct...