Prison is full of prisoners … but it’s a lonely place. As months turn to years, it becomes more so. There are lots of people in prison you don’t want to hang around or even be at the same table or TV with. Then there are the few that you can tolerate which will allow a small release valve on being lonely. One or two you may even become close to, who you may at times be able to confide in or even share thoughts or ideas with.
One person who I became close to I knew for around five or so years. We had a good relationship. We lived on the same section. He kept mostly to himself. He was a nerdy type who was into sports and learning. He worked out and paid attention to his diet. I think due to his small frame; he was not comfortable in his surroundings. He also worried about how he looked. He was always doing something to his hair. I asked him one time, “What are you putting in your hair to make it shine like that?” He told me he used lotion or toothpaste – whatever he had available. He was more feminine than masculine. He wanted to appear masculine, but he failed totally. He was open with me, yet a little standoffish, I’m sure due to the environment. I looked forward to my time around him. He ended up getting transferred to another facility in the middle of the night. Prison again became a lonely place.
I have two other people I speak to but there’s a lot of distance there. You have to keep a certain persona in prison. You have to be macho, cool or tough or all of these things, which creates a wall, which I try to get past ever so delicately, without causing discomfort to either party. One of these people has shared personal ideas with me. He has been in prison quite a while. He basically grew up here. He is still only in his late 20s or maybe early 30s. It’s hard to say ‘cause prison preserves people so well. We kind of hit it off when we first encountered each other in passing, only though ‘cause we come from two different groups and backgrounds.
Court cultures don’t match and I’m older than he is. We shared a couple of ideas and thoughts on a few occasions, then it just went stale for whatever reason. Now he comes around and it’s like an occasional look my way or an intentional move in the same direction on both our parts. The wall is between us.
The other, he is on the job most of the time. We have totally different schedules. He’s been locked up quite a while also. I believe he is mid-30s, Hispanic/Indian descent maybe. We cross paths ‘cause we both watch sports and we both gamble, so we have our interactions but there seems to be some light on that we share. Again, our backgrounds are different, so is our age. It seems like something but then on some days, there’s denial … there’s a push and pull. Sometimes, we can talk about something, other times not so much. Just that exchange or attempt to exchange is enough to propel me toward the hope of the next time we encounter each other, to see if that light I referred to is there or not, or am I just looking at a wall?
I believe he is just beyond that wall but is maybe peeking over the top. Just the fact that he is peeking over the wall inspires me to try to keep the channel open in an attempt to gain trust maybe, to allow us both to be confident that our thoughts and ideas remain ours alone and not part of the community. It’s like walking a high wire, every day is different, but that’s okay. I find myself looking forward to the time in the day when our paths should cross, at our next attempt to get over the wall.
These encounters break up the routine of everyday prison life, something that is needed to fill a void in the prison existence.
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