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Lost In A Tiny Box
I can’t take it anymore. Being locked in a small room, with no daylight and fresh air! I had never really realized what claustrophobia was, until spending after an hour in here. I wasn’t meant to be in here. I was framed. How am I supposed to prove myself not guilty of killing a human being, when I can’t convince my mom that I’ve done all my chores for the week.
I’ve been here for two days and at least 10 fights have happened. At night I can hear screams crying out for help down the hallway. God forbid if I cry they will beat me up too. If you say something to someone, and they disagree they will pound you. Luckily my inmate isn’t that way.
Don’t even get me started on the food here. It takes me back to school lunch. Served on a tray, as if we’re like animals. Well some of us are. Mondays and fridays are processed meat on a bun. Tuesdays and Sundays are canned beans with beef. Wednesdays and Thursdays are long uncooked noodles in warm ketchup. Sundays are just leftover days where they serve us whatever was left over from the previous week.
It might be weird to hear someone say they’re lost in a jail cell. But once you sit in a jail cell for 2 days, you will get what they meant. Not lost physically, but mentally. There is nothing to do but think. Once you start thinking you get so lost. Lost in a tiny box.
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I was inspired to write this peice after I read a book called Monster by Walter Dean Myers. In the book it is about a boy who is in jail, and its basically his story about how he dealed living in prison in a movie based scipt. I put myself into the books plot nand wrote aboout how I would deal with the situation.