I stare at these concrete walls…I feel their cold deadness with my fingers, and I see officers with handcuffs on their belts passing by, and then I suddenly begin to realize, after being here for 2.5 years…I’m really in a jail right now.

A real…stinkin, true real time experience of doing jail time. No, not some movie, or a show, or some video, I’m really, really in a freakin jail cell right now, and these concrete walls are no joke, and are as real and confining as what your imation of a prison might be like.

This is no dream, I am fully awake, my family and friends outside miss me, my dog stares out the window with his head on his paws wondering where his best friend is, while I’m here in orange clothes that say “Prisoner” on it, among many other abnormal men also wearing the same orange outfits, except their skin is dark from countless tattoos showing their life of crime or status in gangs.

“How am I here?” I wonder as I stroke the cold cell walls and lay on my gray blankets made from the recycled material. “How did I, a man who once was so rebellious and free, end up in this lonesome, gray, nightmarish place?” But it’s REAL.

“Oh yeah,” I remember as my foggy memory brings back faded images of who I once was, a proud, rebellious, glaring man with a ski mask, assault rifle and glock. Was that really me? Did I seriously act and look like that back then? It’s unimaginable, after being here for so long as a man with nothing but prison labeled state owned clothes.

“Gosh, that really was be. What was I thinking?” As that thought hits me, the concrete walls begin to make more sense. It starts to become more realistic. But still, who could have guessed that a blinged out free rider like me, could suddenly become a sober, quiet, thoughtful man that I’ve become, grown thirty years in maturity in 2.5 years.

“I guess these concrete walls really do affect you,” I think to myself, in the quiet night. This is a real trial of time, seclusion, and torture. And to think some people outside cry because their hamburger didn’t have enough onions. Wait…hamburger? What’s a hamburger?

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