“The meeting host will let you in soon ” it says on my screen as a blue circle stares at me.
I am waiting for a first digital  visitation. Its been a little over 6 months now that I have started corresponding with him.
He surely is no messiah, “I am the devil!” he wrote  “I got horns”  
To this I responded with telling him he has an angelic name. I told him how I felt about the meaning of it all. He often said there was no meaning.  “Im a prisoner!” he wrote.
I knew this from the start though little does one know how it all starts. I dived into this fearless though not thoughtless. I am a balancer  of tightropes , where ever there is a sense of depth I will roam. His profile seemed challenging to say the least. I tried to read some notes on his background but the story was long, too long, too far.
He mentioned  how he welcomed the sights and scents my letter brought born of the natural worlds. Something he deeply missed. He wrote that he found it hard to write in a human way because he was surrounded by people who were  “barely awake” or who just told plain  “crap!”
I dived into this without restriction because I happen to believe that there is a shard of glass in everyone and we are al prisms of different colors. Each of us carries a burden, some more than others, and sometimes, often there are no reasons as to answer why ?
Some people become delinquent for a cause or a need, for some it is a way, for others it might be the only way.  Yes indeed, some are relentless. Judgement is easy though how would you feel ripped from your freedom, from your dignity, from your privacies, knowing that the only thing left is your sanity, if not and most likely one might loose it, else turn into a stone without any purpose.
He writes about solitary confinement. A life in a dark often  in a  “shit smeared!” tiny space.  he writes about the nights which are most awful because this is the time when others let out their anguish, their hoots, their howls, their screams, their cries.....
Sleepless insomniac existence
 We speak two different languages though in the middle we can meet on safe common grounds. As the round blue dots start to twirl, the screen opens. I am suddenly there in the facility, he has on a brightly colored mask. He speaks in a silly voice. I start laughing and so does he, we laugh and laugh, tears almost stream from my face.
He is a waterfall of words, I sit back and listen, surrender to his chivalry.
He asks me advice on how he has trimmed his moustache, shows me a tattoo he has gotten. I can not help it but seeing the outlines of a child, he is speaking an opposition of words, his favorite word being the F word.  Like he is secretly telling me  “come on now, say it!!!” I dont though, I do keep my reserve, for various reasons. But he can be my buddy, my pal, my friend. If I ask him about his pagan beliefs he tells me he retired from it  since he practiced Buddhism. They had a mediation group in a place where he was once so he learned the eight fold path.  “Im a fake Buddhist  though, not sure if I still follow that path”
  “Bad karma , I assume” I reply, he laughs
 “So youre not a practitioner anymore?!” I ask him . He  shows me his middle finger.
We laugh. Suddenly a uniformed guard comes up and says
 “Five more minutes!”
 “See you next time” I say and wave, he smirks and walks away
Written by Rianne
Author's Note
dedicated to a hell of a special person!
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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