#PrisonReflections

[caesarandthecity]

Time in Prison

Since ancient mythology, time has been seen as an absolute and relentless force. Saturn, also known as Chronos in Greek mythology, devours his own children—a perfect metaphor for time consuming everything in its path.

Einstein’s Theory of Relativity gave us a new perspective: time is not linear. It stretches, contracts, and bends depending on gravity and speed. For some, it moves too fast; for others, it drags. But one universal truth remains: we can never go back, only forward.

In prison, time stops being just a concept and becomes a living entity. A prison within a prison—slow, relentless, merciless. Every day feels stretched beyond measure, yet suddenly, the last day arrives.

But there is a way to defeat time: filling it with something that makes you grow. When you enter a flow state, time loses its grip, and days pass with a sense of purpose. That’s how I survived.

I fell in love with reading again. I didn’t just read—I absorbed. I marked pages, wrote essays, and reflected on every book. I retook high school subjects, studied in a new language, and even requested a calculator to help with math—only to be told there weren’t any available. So, I did everything by hand.

I watched Chasing the Dragon over and over, a documentary about addiction that helped me understand my own struggle with meth and where it could have led me.

I exercised in my cell. My cellmate laughed at first, but I didn’t care—I just kept going. Confidence starts somewhere, and once it takes root, it spreads to every part of your life.

I meditated daily. Practiced yoga on the cold floor, without a mat, without anything. I woke up before the C.O. could wake me, so by the time they came around for breakfast, I had already meditated, stretched, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair.

To them, this was wrong. How dare I find peace in prison? How dare I not suffer the way they were suffering? But I had made my choices. They had made theirs.

I wrote in my journal every single day. About my past, my present, my dreams for the future. I wrote fiction. I wrote reality. And I cried. I cried for forgiveness, for understanding, for gratitude.

And one day, without realizing it, the prison stopped feeling like a punishment.