One morning I woke up and was plunged into psychological shock. I had forgotten I was free.

This world is nothing. An illusion. Death is the release.

I find it painful and angering to look in a mirror.

Most important, you learn never to trust a man, even if he seems honest and sincere. You learn how men deceive themselves and how impossible it is to help them without injuring yourself.

That is how prison is tearing me up inside. It hurts every day. Every day takes me further from my life.

The part of me which wanders through my mind and never sees or feels actual objects, but which lives in and moves through my passions and my emotions, experiences this world as a horrible nightmare.

When they talk of ghosts of the dead who wander in the night with things still undone in life, they approximate my subjective experience of this life.