The Cell
The following events take place inside a prison cell
Day in and day out, I am waiting for them to finish
it all , for a bullet of mercy. For someone, FOR ANYONE to pull the plug on
me; you see them, liberals, claim that capital punishment is a very cruel
“crime” , crime they say!! They establish their fancy arguments about the
powers that be, being as cruel and criminal as the cons themselves, well here I
am sitting inside this frigging cell that I think I am more institutionalized then
the bunk bed I sleep on every night when I can sleep. A bullet, a syringe, a
noose, an electric shock, any of those would be a much needed mercy; a helping
hand, a bridge that I am more than willing to cross over.
They ripped me of my humanity; oh was that too
blunt for ya!! Did you need an Orwellian speech with descriptive details that
make Brown and King seem like high school students, I guess you are one of them
then?? Those ALIVE people...I am condemned to breathe here for the remainder
of the sentence, the judgment they call my life. They thought this is the
kindest favor they can offer me, little did they know, that if I was brave
enough I would have taken my own life, they don’t get it, and they can't get
it; you see there is that one short story about a stupid bet between a banker
and a young man, both were dumb if you ask me, one of them argued that after 50...or...15 or was it 25?…Well after a large number of years in confinement
one would no longer have the capability to function as a normal willing human
being. It would simply drain over time and the other thought the opposite, so
the bet went on as one of them stayed under lock and key while the other lived fearing
that they would lose the bet and their money (it was a loot of money) the
only thing that could make the banker dude win was that the other guy’s escaped
the day before the last he goes into the room to choke him but instead he finds
a paper and on it was the confession of the imprisoned fool and he explains to
him how through his years , his reflection and his readings, he no longer
wants the money and he has changed his outlook at life completely and thus he
will be running away from his cell before the time expires by one hour….Am
starting to think am making this up maybe I am, I wouldn't blame you if you agree…. Anyway what I want you to understand is that pile of crap I just told
you about is REAL, you become a piece of furniture, just another page in a
looong PAINFUL novel.
They break us out of our cells at the beginning of
the day so that they can indoctrinate us, we are simply told about what we
should know, and what we shouldn’t know is never mentioned. Our own original
ideas, you ask? Stripped bare of any chance of flourishing, diminished to
nothing, more than trivial fantasy not even worthy of the slightest chance of
receiving constructive criticism … the pain,, what really makes it painful
is the hope , the cruelest instrument humans could allow you to wield to
torture yourself…they let it hang there , the chance of redemption , the gun
with the single bullet , that really REALLY shiny knife in the kitchen,, the open door AND THAT DAMNED WINDOW…ohhh wait you have no idea what am
talking about do you ?
My cell, or as “they” call it , my room has a
window; it is not barred; it is not high for me not to be able to reach it; it’s big enough for me to look through at the vast open nothing outside which
is in all honesty mesmerizing and beautiful, sometimes it’s a barren dead
charming desert, sometimes it’s alive chaotic green fields, other times its
busy entangled grey yet shiny cities , and it kills me every time I look
through my window, as I know am never leaving and they know that or at least my
mind tells me that they do. Otherwise, I am the only one being cruel here and I
am being cruel to myself. I would prefer to believe my own excuses than to face
the truth, I can jump through my window by the way…but I don’t.
After our classes are finished they send me back
…"home". I can see the yard and those trying futilely to exercise and
play , try as they may what is dead is dead and may never live again , only
living people can experience suicide , others
can only know the torment of breathing .
My supervisor drinks a lot, or not ? They also like
to beat us, me and my cellmate. They don’t look happy when they are doing it,
and they don’t look happy after they are done with it, but they do it A LOT, so
I came to the conclusion that they like it and that the tears and crying I hear
coming from their room, their office, are cries and tears of joy otherwise why
would they be doing it all the time if they were crying sadly?? Anyway, their
beatings never stopped my brother from using, oh wait I don’t want to confuse
you, already you seem very smart? That got a chuckle out of me…let me
explain , you get very close to your cellmate , when you live with someone for
so long , you are bound to like them , so they grow on you and you grow on them
and eventually you find yourself calling them brother., so my brother is using
now, whatever he can get his hands on, he is ready to use, whether he will
snort it, shoot it, smoke it, or drink it as long as it makes consciousness go
away, as long as it can make the hope, the ability to feel and realize that you
are still alive in pain stop as long as it can make him no longer feel the
beatings, he never invites me to join him though! I don’t know what I would do
if he did, I am not sure I am brave enough to try this, to try things that can
do this to you, things that may make me feel alive or even more dead? I still
don’t understand why he didn't jump out of the window or why he was so angry
when I asked once out of mere curiosity if I can try one of his drugs.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I am 13.
