First, let me situate you: doors clanging, people yelling, guards barking. The noise in prison is non-stop, and nighttime is often louder than daytime, because at night many inmates cry out, haunted by their trauma.
I often felt like joining them. For the first three years, the cacophony in here drove me absolutely bonkers. I walked around like a zombie — neither dead nor alive. I had a long beard and no one to talk to. My hygiene was so bad that a newfound friend counseled me on the importance of keeping my face washed and teeth clean.
Over time, I started to adjust, and my life began to improve. I became a gardener. I saw firsthand how life started as a seed, grew into a plant, and then died off in the fall. I realized that is exactly what happened to me: Part of me had died in those first few years, but I did not see what was next.
[For more on this story by JASON NARADZAY, go to https://www.themarshallproject...ed-me-survive-prison]
Comments (1)