Today marks ninth month since I arrived on St Marten my Island I call my second home, I arrived on Oct 25 th 2015, on one way ticket to start my life for the coming season. Little I knew I would be detained, incarcerated and left without no income, no family and no means to survive. I never imagined, my own home could become my prison, this day has brought me to shame and discouragement only a stranger can feel when arriving in a foreign country or a jail cell. My life is a living nightmare; I have survived these 36 weeks, having the same routine each morning, afternoon and evenings. Weekends come and go as a blur. Few months ago I started a new practice, which at the time was pathetic, and absolutely mad. Each Thursday I started to drink my favorite Johnny walker drink, in short Johnny black, I would intoxicate myself to level, where morning sunshine had a meaning and the days after, if u ask why I practice this habit my answer is truly simple. I wanted to minus as many days possible to shorten the week, without leaving my room. I have been discriminated, called names and asked to leave restaurant as I was a less of their class system. I have survived on pennies and begged as a homeless person to strangers, Once upon a time they were my friends.
My story is too long and I doubt at one time I could express my feelings, my blackness of real life. I have missed half a year and still I remain in daze. I have no friends, I have no family, and my loving children don’t have a clue what really happened to their father. I am alone I see myself withering away slowly to pain of being alone, only a human can imagine if they had there both shoes off. In all respect I am not a saint, nor a person I have been labeled.
Thank you for reading, I wish to continue to writing in future as I have a story to be shared .People need to understand the consequences one can face anytime in their life.