Sometimes I sit and watch the guys around me. Prison does crazy things to dudes. More severe cases are called institutionalized. Those are men that once released don't stand a chance. Freedom literally scares them and they will re-offend, just to come back to the life they know here. A bed every night and three meals a day.
There are others that just develop crazy quirks. Misfires if you will. Don't laugh at an institutionalized man because if you do you should be ashamed. Like poking fun at a mentally challenged person--you're just being an asshole yourself.
Men with weird unexplainable actions are interesting to observe. Almost as good as a paid safari to watch a lion take down a wildebeest.
I would be a liar if I said this place hasn't affected me too. My shoes are military precision paired and placed under my bed. As soon as I wake up, before I even leave, my bed is made military style. Hospital corners and 6-inch cuff. I slide it over to one side of the bunk so I don't sit on it and mess it up. I'm not crazy. That's so I'm inspection ready at any time. If an officer has to stop and tell me to make my bunk, I'm dead wrong. This means that instead of walking past, he's now lingering at my pad. This means next I'm subject to a shake down, which I don't ever need.
I leave things matched and paired and slide to the edge of my bed. This alerts me to anyone messing with my shit. You have to do that here. Maybe someone wants me gone and out their way, so they slide a shank or a cell phone under my mat or bunk. They tip the cops off and I go in for something that wasn't ever mine. I shake myself down every day just to make sure no one sets me up for the fall.
I lock my cup and bowl in my locker. Never leave it out. Someone could come put some bleach or Ajax in something to make you sick. A few drops of simple Visine will give you the explosive diarrhea for two days. These guys play dirty. This is my life.
The cops play a hard game as well as the inmates. Cops will lie on you to get you in trouble. Maybe they know you're up to no good but can't ever catch you. They put phones, dope and knives on dudes as well. Then come shake you down. You really have to stay in your own lane here.
So the silly shit I do and have become anal about is stuff to save my ass, if not my life. Someone else probably watches me though...shaking down my shit...laid under my bunk like a mechanic doing an oil change and thinks..."what the hell is he on?". One day I will no doubt drive a woman nuts if I can't shake this place. I can. I will.
Back here we just mess with each other. I'm reading a book right now. I wondered why I kept reading this same page every time I opened the freaking thing. Then realized my Bunkie keeps sticking my bookmark at page 85. Thanks asshole. But--these are the things you need to keep you sane.
My Bunkie has been doing time with me for five years. He was at my last prison too. He ran over someone with his car while on spring break in Panama City. He was a college student at Florida State. He killed the person. He's doing twenty years. That's my best friend.
The man who gets all the good books sent in that I read sleeps next to us in another bunkbed. He likes motorcycles and we're going to ride to Sturgis for a bike week once I'm out. He leaves six months before me. He's been in for 18 1/2 years. He did home invasions and assaulted a policeman. They gave him 25 years.
I've met some good people here. They were not when they came in, neither was I. Some just made a bad mistake. One man comes here and changes to become a good person. Another comes here and will leave a greater menace than he came. A friend of mine states to always move forward....I like that. Never forget where you've been and the journey you took to become who you are.
Before long this will become a fading memory.
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