23 days to go

I’m starting to understand why guys start fights in their final week. Now that I can see the end I realize that I have been living under a constant background fear that said ‘I am not going to survive this experience.’ with my release date nearly in my grasp I come to the fact that I have survived it. Not only did it not destroy me, but I actually flourished.

I learned things, made friends, adapted to the stresses. New bodies come in and they look like scared fish to my experienced eyes. Tattooed prison veterans give me fist-bumps as they pass. I know how everything works and people come to me for advice. On top of that I just got an early kick. I’m walking with an easy swagger.

I own this place.

At the same time, every tine, little thing in her annoys the shit out of me. I hate the scratchy towels, my bag-drawers, the guards on the speakers, the T.V. I am finding it impossible to be satisfied with any of the county food, and even the treats I can buy from stores are getting on my nerves. Wort of all, every stupid, annoying thing my quad mates do has become intolerable to me.

With 3 weeks to go I am still able to bite my tongue or put in earplugs. I still have a few culinary tricks up my sleeve to make my food choices more interesting. Writing gives me something productive to focus on and reading still helps me escape.

But it’s getting harder everyday.

My emotional tension ratchets up with incremental regularity.

Everyday I fantasize about fighting.

I want to fight.

There are two tracks, opportunity and desire, that are converging at some near future point.

Hopefully the meeting point is 25 days ahead instead of 20.