A Letter From Another World by 'A Convict in Ad-Seg in a Texas Penitentiary' How do I spit out on paper what I want known to a special someone beyond these walls of stone and bars of steel? No one could ever know, not anyone who hasn’t been a white-dressed, faceless, numbered nothing. I can’t even tell them, but I can try. I’ll never be the same, but I want someone to understand nonetheless! I cannot show kindness because kindness is weakness in my world and to be weak is to invite hurt. There is a mask you must maintain in day-to-day life here in the system and wonder, as you sit in these cells, if you will ever be able to take that mask off and cast I aside upon release. Understand the way I have changed inside after being stripped of my identity and self-respect, changed day after day by being treated like an idiot child and being forced t live with every type of derelict and degenerate and never being able to escape the insanity of this miserable life. It is like living in a fish bowl: you can’t even sit on the toilet without an audience. Can you even begin to understand how being stripped naked and having your every being looked upon by hateful and indifferent eyes can leave wounds to pride and dignity and ugly scars that probably will never heal. Try to understand the chill of walking by a cell and seeing clots and puddles of blood from someone who slashed their arms open because they couldn’t stand up for themselves or deal with the thousands of ‘games!” It is hard to explain or even to understand the ark it leaves to see someone’s mind snap under the strain and watch someone’s son, father, or brother turn into an animal. Then they are either segged to sit in a cell 165 hours a week or take the extremely high doses of anti-depressants. Daily I face constant assault upon my personality and I am forced to turn my emotional process off, to dry my range of feelings or lose my damn mind. In here the way to survive is to play a role. You act the part for the benefit of indifferent eyes hiding what you really are from the contamination of this so sick world inside the cage. Sooner or later the question will be asked, “What is prison like?” I spend all day, every day, wishing that I didn’t know that answer. Ironically, also a bad joke is the simplest and most accurate answer: “You had to be there!” But that simple platitude won’t suffice because the question will no doubt come from someone who deserves a much better answer. The main problem is that preformed ideas about prison are waiting to color my response: vague snippets of movies, newspaper reports and television drama whose accuracies leave nothing to be desired. A graphic explanation if that’s possible stands no chance against media reinforced rumors. Know that the facts about prison aren’t better or worse than the living truth, they are just different! It is easier to describe what prison is not like! It is not like a country club, dungeon, cave, or torture chamber. It is not as you probably think it is, but it may be worse. This leads up to my favorite inaccuracy. “Prison is what you make of it!” In a very narrow sense, that is true, although you certainly cannot make it into a vacation, no matter how hard you try. Another handy stand-by, “Prison is a learning experience.” That is also true; however, the same can be said about catching your arm in a wood chipper and having it torn off! There is one thing that describes prison, an all-encompassed truth, an inarguable fact: regardless of how you get there, how long you stay, or what unit you’re assigned to, prison is lonely. So what is prison really like? Prison is going to sleep at night wondering who, if anyone, is missing you. It is missing your loved ones so much that you must harden your heart to survive. It is nonchalantly waiting for mail call the way an alcoholic might nonchalantly wait for that first drink of the morning to chase away the shakes and DTs. Prison is hearing a song on the radio that transports you to the exact time, place, and feeling of when he/she last said, “I love you!” You would sooner be transported to hell, a distant cousin of prison, than to be abused by memories in such a manner. Hunger, terror, depravity, injustice, and humiliation that you may be subjected to in prison certainly take back seat to the isolation and loneliness involved in doing time. Being one number against the many of other numbers here is a daily struggle but it can be survived. Granted the food is horrible at times and if you have no money, trying to “hustle up” deo. and toothpaste can get to where it is the main focus of your life. Meeting someone who would rather spit on you than glance your way in greeting can be discomforting to say the least. But, most everything can be handled and dealt with except for loneliness. Bottom line is…you had to be there!