I sat in my dark hotel room on my way to Pennsylvania where I’d turn myself in on charges I knew I had nothing to do with. It was either this or go back to jail.

My art was gaining a little traction but I was still projected to spend years of my life in prison come the end of the year. The rain poured and I hoped anyways, figuring if I believe in my purpose enough, whatever higher power that lied beyond would protect me.

I didn’t know I was right then but I know now. Hope must continue at all costs, the individual’s belief in their power to change the world must continue at all costs.