Sometimes I twirl a pencil or pen for seemingly endless amounts of time, just staring at a blank page. I love it. I love what a blank page promises. For me, it signifies the endless possibilities of the future. I can create anything I want on a page devoid of words. I can create anything I want for the rest of my life.

I’ve always lived life for the stories, have always been really good at re-telling them, but I had no idea that I possessed the ability to write the stories myself. Honestly, I was just too lazy to write, but now I’m in a position where I’ve been stripped down to my core. My only way to fight my oppression, the only way I can get my story out, is to write it on a blank page. I’ve learned the power of writing down my thoughts. It forces me to search for a truth that I never knew existed, the truth of who I am. The truth of who I want to be.

The truth is that I believe that I’m special. I’ve always felt different, like I was born for a purpose greater than myself. I’m one in a million. I don’t say this proudly; in a way, this feels like an incredible burden—the burden of changing the world, to make this world a better place, to connect with others who feel the same calling in different forms. I feel a great responsibility to those I feel have the light of positivity shining out of their souls. Those who love, give, forgive, show kindness, empathy, selflessness, generosity, passion, and hope. It’s a constant struggle against the darker forces of hate, greed, resentment, revenge, selfishness, laziness, self-loathing, and fear.

Think of the connection people feel when someone gives an impassioned speech about loving those around them. An undeniable feeling of togetherness and hope spreads through the entire crowd. The same connection happens when a speech is full of hate, but instead of togetherness and hope, it leads to anger and incoherent rage. It’s the reason that mobs become what they become.

I understand that there are injustices that seem so egregious that it seems like only anger and rage will ever make a difference. My father is in the hospital for the second time in two weeks with a blood clot in his lungs. I honestly don’t know if he’ll survive until I’m out of the SHU, much less out of prison. I’ve already lost several friends while here, and I’ll most likely lose my aunt and uncle, as well. All because cannabis is still deemed by the federal government to be void of medicinal benefit. Some people, maybe most people, will point at this and say that I brought this on myself. I can handle that. For me, the real truth is that I’m here because of greed.

I’m missing the end of my father’s life because of the greed of the wealthy, the people who line the pockets of those charged with making this country a democracy. Those individuals were voted in by the people to speak for their respective regions. The numbers don’t lie: Americans don’t believe their tax dollars should be spent incarcerating people for cannabis. I truly don’t believe a majority of Americans believe that I should be missing the end of my father’s life.

This doesn’t make me angry; this makes me incredibly sad. I use cannabis because it brings me closer to the positive connection, the source of humanity, the higher power of bringing together like-minded souls. I wouldn’t think, feel, act, love, or empathize the way I do without the spiritual connection I’ve felt through smoking with others. I’ve smoked blunts with nearly every ethnicity, race, religion, and sexual orientation. And I have loved every single person. When we smoke with someone, we share a bond forged in love and peace, togetherness and unity, family and friendship: the positive force.

If someone gave me a choice between an angry riot that made those in charge release me tomorrow or a show of incredible unity and love that didn’t seem to work at all, I would choose the latter. The positive road is a long one. The positive road takes time to soften people’s hearts. The positive road is the only one that leads us to the humanity we want to be in the end. An angry riot would just stoop down to the same level of greed and self-serving behavior exhibited by the people responsible for my oppression. If we’re going to change the world, we have to do it right.

While the fight to end the prohibition and stigma of cannabis is my personal fight at the moment, I’m also fighting for the people connected to me through the force of positivity. We all have something we’re fighting for, and the end goal of our universe is perfect harmony where all humans and nature become one in an unbroken positive rhythm.

This blank page has turned into the story I want to live for the rest of my life: to be a person that brings our universe toward its perfect and positive conclusion. I know I’ll likely die millions of years before this happens, but my soul will live on through others who carry this burden into the future, just as the souls of those who have fought for justice now flow through my hand and onto this page. I don’t want an expensive car, a big chain, or a mansion in Beverly Hills; I simply want to make a difference. Together we can change the world.