Sometimes life feels more like a prison sentence than anything else, all of us here just doing our time, not really accomplishing anything, but desperately trying not to get beat up too badly or raped in the ass when we’re not looking. The jailer put us in our cell to learn something or to do something, or so he says, but we’re not sure what we’re supposed to be learning and there isn’t much we can do. It’s with malicious arbitrariness that he decides who can leave, and when, whether they want to or not. Let the wicked man live a hundred years to ruin the world around him, but take the innocent child before he can say his mother’s name. Some hang themselves in their cells but are spit upon by their fellow prisoners, others manage to escape and are regarded as heroes. I fail to see the difference. I don’t know what I’m in for or how long I’ll be here, I’m just looking for a way to pass the time.