At AFSC today, I read and summarized a file of letters from a prisoner in isolation. It hit me harder than I anticipated. I thought I could handle most prison stories, but I suppose the sheer volume of it was overwhelming. The same stories told over and over with varying levels of urgency and anger. The reasoning of a man who will spend the rest of his life in this hell he's describing. No hope whatsoever.

Below is a quick sketch of the hundred or so pages I read today.

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Cockroaches, falling like rain all through the night. I sleep on the bare metal of the bed frame because the mattress they offered me smelled like urine. It had brown stains and was infested with cockroaches. The cover was shredded exposing the thin foam. They turn out the lights at 10PM, then the nuts upstairs start screaming and crying. They wake me up at 1AM to deliver my mail. At 2AM they deliver the newspaper. At 3AM they wake me to ask if I am asleep. At 4AM breakfast comes. Cockroaches are in the watery oatmeal before I can open the warm carton of milk. I flick them off and step on them.

The neck is tougher than most people think. A one foot drop just doesn't work, no matter how much you bounce and thrash around. I'll have to find a higher drop. I heard that if it's 7 feet or more, it will take the head clean off. Then they can't resuscitate me like they did last time. I killed myself for xmas but then I woke up and they put me back in with the roaches.