The Dreadful Walls of Somber Days | Teen Ink

The Dreadful Walls of Somber Days

December 5, 2007
By Anonymous

Day 2, 290; Lonely, noisy, empty. Locked behind these bars, caged
inside these cement walls, with not a single thing to do except think.
So I do. I think all day. I think about getting out of here, I think
about being trapped, I think about not having a purpose. It has been
so long since I was a free man. I have long lusted for a glimpse of
autumn's amber sunsets on top of a Colorado mountain. I can hardly
remember what it was like to be on my own and not being watched by
uptight security guards 24 hours a day. Time is moving and I can
hardly say that I even realize it anymore. They call me inmate number

My cell is roughly 10x10 feet. Most of my days are spent in that
small amount of space. There is a poster of Johnny Cash on the
otherwise blank gray wall. It reminds me of the Folsom Prison Blues
song that he sings. It makes sense that that poster would be on my
wall. The only thing that inhabits the floor is me and my cot. My cot
is like a hard board, that I attempt to sleep on. There is a small
window covered in bars. I don't look out of that window anymore.
Something as simple as a window, overwhelms me with false hope. There
is no hope. This is all I have to look forward to every morning.

Henry is the inmate that is in the cell next to mine. He talks to
himself all night, every night. I don't know what he is in for. But it
must be bad because one night he started yelling about how he would do
it again and he was going to do it again once he got out. The guards
came in and took him away for quite some time. Ever since he has been
back he whispers over and over to himself, never again, never again,
never again… He is in here for a life sentence. I don't want to turn
out like him but these walls do something to you that makes you unable
to think straight.

So far tonight I have not been able to get a glimpse of sleep. But
this time I am not thinking. This time I am feeling. I was feeling
these walls closing in on me, fatser and faster. The cell was getting
smaller. I not only felt trapped, I felt anxious. More so than ever
before. My mind was racing not with thoughts but with disquiet
emotions. I have to get out of here. Beyond these walls is open fields
of clarity. Clarity, something that I have not had in a long time. If
only I was able to release my body back into the world. The Colorado
mountains would see me again, as I watch the amber sunset. There would
be no restrictions and no walls would threaten my freedom.

Day 2,291; I am still here. The walls did not close in on me. Only
now I wish they had. I still have to be here all day thinking and
thinking and thinking. I still have to relate to that Johnny Cash
song, I still have to avoid the small window, and I still have to fear
turning into Henry as time drags on more and more. Stuck in solitude,
I am. Here I will be for God knows how long. Will I make it? How many
more nights like last night will I have? Will I even be able to adapt
to the new world? How many more days must drag on before I lose it? I
need to get out of here. It seems like the day will never come when
the guards come to take me to my parole conference. I will be here
forever, and not a day less it seems like. With no hope. Stuck here in
this disconsolate atmosphere waiting for the next dismal day.

Suddenly a stampede of foot steps drew near. My cell door opened and
the head guard steps in and says, "Inmate number 365M, you are due for
your parole conference."

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