When The Lights Go Out

I don't know why I'm feeling this unbelievable urge to write. Maybe its something new to do, or maybe its something deeper. I feel like I'm beating a dead horse here, but I need an outlet for my anger. If I don't have one, I will snap and end up in this hellhole longer still. So this little yellow legal pad will have to suffice. Nowadays I only find peace in the darkness, solace in the night. The very few hours between the time that the last asshole in here falls asleep, and when the lights come on in the morning... that is my time. The din of this place is unimaginable, their voices like a thousand nails on a thousand chalkboards. Sanity, it seems is truly relative to the person, and this place is sorely lacking. I find myself being drug into their circles if only to maintain a bit of human contact, but every time I ask myself if its truly worth it. The religious hypocrites in this place... ARGH!!! They assault my every sensibility! Surely they can see their own hypocrisy. I can see it... taste it even, its so thick in the air... I can see it in their greedy, self-serving eyes. These self-proclaimed "brothers of the faith" would turn Judas for far less than forty pieces of silver. The mere promise of freedom would turn these men into slavering psychophants at the drop of a hat. Idolaters worshipping at the alter of self-preservation. No, God is truly dead in this place. Replaced by the pack mentality that only the illusion of God will give them the freedom to vent. How I loathe this place and everyone in it!



In my sadistic heart, I can't help but ask myself what my position in the pecking order around here would be if these musings and rants of mine were read by the general population. As it stands I'm accorded a grudging respect and they only come to me when they want to trade or need a favor. I can live with that. I guess one could find it very self-gratifying that when walking through a crowd, people move out of your way, and new inmates are told, "just don't fuck with that guy." However, I have always found it more gratifying when these things were said about me in reference to my intellectual side. Alas, there's no risk of that happening in this cesspit. The shallow end of the gene pool is quite well represented in this place. I just want to leave... is that such an improbable thing to wish for? I think that I've given my due. This punishment is far from ordinary, its quite extraordinary. My greatest fear is what this will do to Julia and I. I don't doubt that she loves me, and I love her just as much as I always have. But I'm not the same person that came into this place... the man she fell in love with. I have no idea if these changes in personality will outlast my incarceration. And if they do... for how long? Long enough for her to fall out of love with me??? Or will her presence do to me what it always has, and breathe life back into the corpse that is my soul? My mind is atrophied, my soul turned black yet again. My AIM screen name, FortunadoTheFool is truly ironic now. I think I finally know how poor Fortunado felt as Montressor hemmed him into his niche, brick by brick. Alone, confused, scared. Helpless to do anything, yet strangely defiant, as I am. So, acknowledging how helpless I am, I keep the snarl on my face. This situation is big and daunting, but I am MASSIVE. I spit in its eye.

heh... you won't beat me.