I do my best every day to make prison the best experience it can be. From the moment I arrived, I surrounded myself with positive people who were motivated to better themselves in every way possible. We worked out together, played sports together, and they played music while I supported. They were extremely talented musicians, and the three of us together on sports teams were nearly unbeatable. We had no cell phones to contact our outside friends, and we all learned quickly how fast people on the outside fade.

The only contact that the prison system provides is an outdated email system and 300 minutes on the phone. When I first got here I was on the email all the time. I burned through the minutes and I tried desperately to stay in touch with everyone on the outside. Quickly friends fell off because they “forgot the password” or “didn’t remember to reply.” My sister is really the only person who has always stayed by my side. My ex was there for me at the beginning, but after a couple months she fell off, too. It hurt more than words can really describe, but could I blame her? Here I am in prison while her life must go on outside.

Friends have sworn they were going to come visit me, that I wouldn’t be alone. They never even filled out the form it takes to get approved. My sister still came and she brought my daughter with her. Visiting is nice, but also emotionally heartbreaking. The first time my daughter had to leave me, she burst into tears. She ran to come hug me one last time. I was devastated. I was broken. Realizing I would be here for years. Missing every birthday. Missing every Christmas. Missing all these milestones and holidays during the ages when those things matter the most to a young child.

It was relieving to go back into prison after a visit and find my friends there. The one good thing about prison is that everyone here has experienced the same feelings of heartache, of the ripped raw feeling of loss when your loved ones leave. A few months after being here, my daughter sent me a letter written in crayon with some letters clearly backwards. It read a simple eight words long, “Dadda, how long will you be in jail?” I broke down in tears, only my roommate there to help me. It was crushing to read, and I didn’t know how to answer. Time as a child is weird, and she was only four-years-old at the time. Eventually we decided to get a phone. This has helped to regain a semblance of contact with the outside world, but there is a good chance that I won’t always have this opportunity. That’s why I try to cherish it every day and make the most of it while I have it.

Bringing light to the darker feelings and emotions of prison is, I think, good for people. It’s hard being in prison for something you still believe in, and I’ve learned to accept the place in life people give me. I can’t get mad that friends haven’t come and visited. They are living their lives and I’m no longer there living mine alongside them. I can’t get mad that my ex has moved on because I’m gone. Prison is about growing and finding yourself. Holding onto bitterness just because it’s one of the only things left to hold simply doesn’t help.