caged free bird
  1. Dear Diary, Part 1

    June 8, 2015  |  0 Comments

    22 days later…:

    Being in this particular prison in Ba’abda, changed me in one minute. I just can’t stand seeing my family anymore.

    In my room there are 20, me included: 2 from Bangladash, they’re rude and pushy; a woman and her daughter that always yell at each other and always give vague answers as to why they’re here; a woman put in for attempted murder to her husband with her new boyfriend who is also in prison, to be more specific about her, she’s been here for 4 years and had a miscarriage the first year; a loud, obnoxious yet caring and motherly woman who’s been here about a year, not sure what her story is but she’s the boss of the room; another attempted murder to her husband after finding him in bed with another woman; 3 older woman that I don’t know what’s up with them but they’re the grandma’s of the room; one woman put in for checks bouncing; a mother and daughter put in for drug dealing; a HUGE drug dealer that ran away from prison before and now has 10 years with no chance of parole; an old woman that slapped her sister a few years ago, where she fell down the stairs and died, since then she’s developed a form of split personality and now just sits here left uncared for speaking to herself; a pregnant woman who’s been accused of stealing with her husband, though she says she’s innocent (aren’t we all?); a woman who’s had her car stolen and whoever stole it fucked up a lot apparently and blamed her for it (ah, the justice system); another nice woman who’s been accused with something to do with weaponry and the mafia; and one free-spirited 56 year old who has almost the same story as mine, but she’s been convicted to 5 years, with no proof except for word of mouth.

    Yes, it’s crazy and in this room shit just got real for me. They taught me a lot, but most of all, not to trust anyone, not even yourself.

    The thing is, I couldn’t sleep last night, my first night here. I wanted to write more that I can’t remember, but they’re in my head somewhere, forever. I had a nervous breakdown today after going to the “roof” (with barbed wire everywhere including the roof), where all the prisoners go in the morning. I ran into a crazy lesbian bitch. I ran downstairs and spoke to a mean cop woman who informed me I do not have a court date, which upset me, then it was said that I cannot make any phone calls, and no one sent me anything nor did I see anyone which was weird for me.. and for once, I felt completely and utterly helpless and alone. I began to cry for a while walking to my room, and an old, beautiful nun stopped me. She just simply put her hand on me, listened to my story, believed me and told me to cry. She kissed my cheek and told me everything was going to be okay. It was exactly what I needed. When I came back to the room, a couple of woman were pretty nice to me. It was weird, but nice I guess. I could never live like this.

    I moved to a woman’s prison in Verdun 4 days later:

    Wednesday, August 28th 2013:

    I had a nervous breakdown on Monday. I hate this. I want to leave.

    Monday, September 2nd 2013:

    I was watching the end of ‘London’ last night. There’s a sentence Sid says that applies to how I feel towards everything right now: “you don’t deal with it, it deals with you”. Yeah, exactly. I can’t believe it’s already September. I hate this place, I’ve never felt so fucking ugly, and I just can’t stand myself. I even caught lice from a beggar, and felt even worse. I’m prepared to burn my head if this medicinal shampoo doesn’t work. When is this nightmare going to end? I’m in hell and I need to get out. It’s been almost four months.. I keep remembering all the good times and memories I have. I can’t stop myself from thinking and it’s killing me considering I don’t talk to anyone about what’s in my head..

    Monday, October 14th 2013:

    Yes, it’s been a while. I’ve went to the hospital and came back. All because of nervous breakdowns and panic attacks, I’ve been diagnosed “severely depressed”. Yeah, no kidding. On the 11th I passed the 5 month imprisonment mark. I feel lonelier than ever. I called my grandma today for the first time in five months.. she cried so much it broke my heart. I miss her like hell.

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