Now I know that may sound absurd and hard to believe because it sounded the same to me also when Judge Keith Dean in Dallas, Texas handed down his order more than 14 years ago. I soon realized that just like the marijuana smoke I consumed, my life was also to be consumed by these years behind bars.

I'm not some flawless star. I have my faults like everyone else. Throughout my young life I warred with myself, trying to grasp something or someone solid to hold onto, someone to show me the right way.

I was regularly sent to special schools and placed in special classes. Stealing cars and other things only led me into juvenile jails, until age 17 when I was charged with aggravated robbery-my first and only criminal charge as an adult.

After a few months in jail, I was given a 10-year deferred sentence and ordered to submit to conditions of probation. Two months later I was ordered to submit to a urinalysis test -- the results showing I had smoked marijuana. The Dallas Court revoked my probation, and I was sentenced to life in prison.

Now, as a black man at age 31, I believe that not being able to communicate with people somehow played a major part in how I lived as a youth. Even today it's hard for me to communicate with my family, my mother, aunt and daughter. It's a feeling no one should have to endure without end. But I have learned to write and through poetry, short stories and essays I sometimes feel I'm saying something.

I mostly write when I'm angry, sad or depressed -- when I try to lose myself between the lines of a page. I've tried suicide a few times without success over the last 14 years. What am I to make of a life filled with failure, including failing to end my life? As I think now, I'm pretty much grateful for those botched efforts.

When every waking hour is ruled by depressing thoughts, it's hard to say exactly what the next day has hiding around its corners. So I try to take it step by step.

I'm haunted at night by the 1990 day when the Judge ordered me to do my life in prison. Why didn't he order me into a drug rehabilitation program? I never had any demand put on me to rehabilitate myself, nor told how I could lean on the shoulder of the State for help with my "addiction" to marijuana.

Who can say, certainly not the Texas Courts, what course my life would have taken if I had been able to grow up on the outside? I want to say to anyone in a situation similar to mine in 1990 that you must learn everything you can about your case -- and don't be afraid to ask lots of questions. My biggest mistake was being unable and unwilling to communicate with my attorney about options and to ask him how well he knew his job.

My family lives almost 200 miles away, and I see my 13-year-old daughter once or twice a year. My mom tries to bring her and her mother to see me, but I haven't had a visit in almost two and one-half years.

No matter how the rest of my life turns out, I give special thanks to all the people and staff of November Coalition for their honest attempt to open the minds of citizens to the unjust drug laws. Let's not let this difficult work to reclaim lives be for nothing. I would enjoy corresponding with anyone interested in my life and writing.

To learn more visit:
savemrbrown.com and
The November Coalition

There are two ways to contribute. First, and probably most convenient, you may visit the SaveMrBrown.com website and contribute through pay pal. Second, you may send a check. Here are the instructions for writing and mailing a check: (1) make the check payable to “Tyrone D. Brown;” (2) write “For Deposit Only” on the back of the check; (3) write the account number, 91131052, both in the memo section of the check and also below “For Deposit Only” on the back of the check; (4) mail the check to Atlantic Coast Bank at 1700 South 3rd Street, Jacksonville Beach, FL 32250.