I work in a zone where bodies are alive, but the souls have long since died.

Mood: Very Lonely
Listening to: Grasshoppers Mix

I have come to the opinion that prison, no matter how small the jail may be, is no place for damaged human beings. A neat little package of twisted abused souls wrapped in razor wire is not the answer. Day after day I look upon people who never had a chance in life. Abused, neglected, addicted, and withdrawn, these people were punished for simply being alive long before ever committing their crimes. So once the damage has been done , and their world becomes crime, we shackle them and herd them like cattle into cinder block walls, give them numbers, and tell them to learn to be "good people". Who is teaching them? not us. We're too busy with paperwork, shortstaffing, cutbacks, and stabbing each other in the back to get ahead. Who is teaching them then? The long timer in the next cell of course. The one with all the jail house tatoos and a walk that says "I have been in for a long time and have a long time to go, so do as I do and you will survive." damaged souls enter this new world of prison and rather than reforming, they become animals hell bent on survival.

I work in a prison, so this is just my opinion based on 4 years of wading through society's throw backs on a daily basis. maybe i just hate my job.