1. The Final Time.

    July 23, 2015  |  0 Comments

    I spent the rest of my days in the prison on Verdun street. Funny, because before I had no idea that there was a prison there. I really thought that this ratty old building wasn’t used for anything.. Little did I know I’d be spending 7 and some change months in that building. That building I called “home”. I did. The days I’d go to court, and the two days I spent in the prison hospital, I told the guards I want to go back “home”. I didn’t mean my house, I meant the prison. It’s funny how your point of view changes so rapidly it’s difficult for me to tell you exactly when I decided that my cell would be my room.

    I can’t say I “enjoyed” my time in Verdun prison. But it was better than the rest. And when it comes down to that, then yes, I did enjoy my time, and yes I was somewhat comfortable. I hated the warden, she was a complete bitch, but I got my ways around her. I moved into my room in the beginning with the worst of women, lost and dazed for a while. Then I met a sweetheart inside, she asked to be moved into my room, and things just kind of looked up from there. Then S and Y moved in with us. It became our room. We turned that room into something of our own, something different than all the other rooms. Maybe because we were all university students, or fresh graduates, or just graduates considering not many of the other women have even been to school. But it was ours. We were pampered by Y’s mom and the things she would get us from the outside. S and I became closer than ever. I miss her so much it hurts.

    We didn’t have showers, we had to heat our own water in pots and shower with a bucket. That got me used to quick showers, which I can handle now. I never was able to leave the bathroom in less than 30 minutes. Now, I can shower in 5 if need be. We didn’t have a flusher on the toilet, we had to throw water in there. The sound of the first time I flushed a toilet when I came out was incredible. The place was infested with cockroaches, the kitchen was too dirty to turn you anorexic, which is probably why I came out 14 kilos lighter living on cigarettes and coffee. The food the government ┬áprovided was disgusting. More so, it was poisonous. Hmm.. Soon I’ll dig up my diary and post some thoughts I had when I was inside, because that’s what’ll help you see more clearly.

    I still have nightmares about the place, about me being dragged back in. But I don’t wake up frightened. I wake up and wonder why I’m not scared about that thought. The thought doesn’t scare me. Okay, yes I’ve been out for a while, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay yet, that doesn’t mean I can blend back into society. Because I can’t. I don’t like society anymore. I hate this place. I hate my own home where my whole fucking family lives..and sometimes, just sometimes, I think I was happier inside. It’s such a sad thought, but it’s really not as sad as it sounds. I’m okay, I’m happy with some things in my life right now, really happy, and others not so much. But it’s okay. I know I’ll be fine.

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