April 17th, 2024
Wednesday
3:30pm
I felt like shit all day. They finally gave me back my thyroid medication yesterday. I wrote Motorcycle wondering if this shit is just going to keep happening to me.
Then I called him and he was bizarrely happy, singing and talking a lot. He says it’s going to rain for three days so he’s going to take CBD gummies and relax.
Must be nice.
Will I ever be free?
I prayed to God for Him to get me out of here and said that I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but I’m pretty sure I’ve reached my limit.
I’m reaching the place of no hope for the future.
What do I really have to look forward to?
Nothing.
To the Girl Down the Hall
Concrete and hatred
She said
To describe the prison at San Quentin
But she forgot
Despair
Childlessness
Hopelessness
Bitterness
And a huge amount of emotional pain
And suffering
That are also held in the
Cages in this prison
How will the light ever get in
When there is so much darkness?
How can there be hope
In a place that God forgot about?
This place doesn’t just strip you
Of all your rights
In this “free” country
It also strips you
Of your very personhood
Your humanity
I wonder what the woman
Down the hall thought about
Last
Before the darkness
Consumed her?
When the noose she fashioned
Tightened around
Her neck
Was she relieved
That the suffering
Would be over soon?
No more concrete and hatred
For her
Maybe she was
Finally free.
–To Ashley Hernandez
6:10pm
So, I’ve been wallowing all day, and then a lady named Zuko asked me in the bathroom how long I’m here. I said I didn’t know, but my max is next year. Zuko said her minimum is in 18 years.
I wouldn’t be able to do it.
I have no idea how people do this.
How do people do this??!
I especially don’t know how people know they’re going to die here and stay alive anyway.
6:50pm I called the boys and King stayed home today with a stomach bug and Superman was having a sugar rush from all of the Gatorade he drank.
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