Before The Passion became something relevant to pen and paper; it was a Life saving idea. Finding myself facing Life in prison at 18 years of age and contemplating suicide, I began to reflect on my Life and how I had gotten to that point. It would take great effort to recall all of the places, experiences and emotions; however, the 15 years I'd serve instead of Life, would allow me the necessary time and space to do just that. And for the sake of remembering, I began to write. And those things became paragraphs. I began to see The Book. I became obsessed with the idea of it, for not only perhaps could I possibly find atonement, but myself as well. Maybe I could get the world to understand me and those like me. Yet how could I do it without exposing myself, my family, my secrets and feelings? Could it be done without incriminating and being offensive to others? Could I tell the Story without seeming to make excuse? And as I offer the first installment of The Life, I am unsure as to how I've fared; nevertheless, some stories are greater than we are and must be told. I feel it is the only reason The Life was spared.