I spend what time there is by reading, writing, sleeping, and eating. At night, when everything is quiet and dark, questions revolve around in my mind and rob me of my sleep, questions that answers cannot answer. Will I be able to function as a rational being one day? Am I still human or am I only following a series of animalistic functions? Whether I am ready or not for the world doesn't enter the picture because whenever I think of the future my past comes up to haunt me, indicative of worse ahead, of endless pain, of loneliness an wanting desperately to be something I have never been - a normal human being.

Sometimes I think about dying I think of braiding a rope by tearing my bedsheets into strips, hooking it to my neck and the bars, climbing on my stool and jumping off. Hah! With my luck a guard will discover the rope before it is finished and I'll be charged with attempting to escape.

More than anything else, I think about the time - twenty years, six hundred and thirty million, seven hundred and twenty thousand seconds. That's without even counting the extra days in Leap Year.

Several times I tried looking for God, not the God of my childhood who floats around on snowy clouds, because he isn't around anymore and hasn't been for a long long time. I need a God who will listen and somehow understand me, who will give me some evidence of His existence and be my friend.

More than anything else, I think about the time. I started with twenty years, 630,720,000 seconds. That's without even counting Leap Year. In some future time I may be free, but for now there are still 327,000,243 seconds left...

I can write no more. The walls of my cell press ever closer. The memories fade once again...