C8 Nelos

I perch my feet up on the table in the mess hall and bite into my apple. It’s too early for lunch, so that means fewer assholes filling the room. I miss the quiet and personal space.

Being in a prison strips you of so much more than personal goods and dignity, but it eradicates the chance to be yourself or feel half-human.

I close my eyes and picture myself in my little house on the beach