Prisoner’s Diary – Day 1
I don’t know what they’ve done to me. I find myself unable to move. My vision is blurry. Somehow they’re sustaining me with some warm formulation. I am exhausted. I can’t even lift my head. They must have drugged me.
I can’t remember how I got here.
Nothing is making sense.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 26
I can now recognize the prison guards. They respond to stimulai. They must be trying to keep me healthy for some kind of show trial. When I complain about a lack of nutrition or sanitation they help me.
I am still unable to move, or even focus.
I can see faces. I can understand when they are pleased with me. I am a prisoner, I will resist pleasing them.
I can’t imagine what they’ve done to me – or why.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 63
I am just barely able to lift my head. I still can not understand their speech. Shapes, and even time, are confusing for me. I am far from offering a proper resistance, much less thinking of escape. I can’t imagine how much more of this I must endure.
At least I am putting on weight.
The guards are beginning to ignore me more. They must calculate that I am healthy enough to survive without their constant support.
Perhaps there is hope.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 87
I ceaselessly protest my incarceration, but they do not seem to care. When I acknowledge their munificence, they reward me.
I can not allow myself to be corrupted.
I am still tired, but I protest more.
I am able to get onto my front without help. It takes every ounce of my strength.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 116
My resistance is yielding. I find myself desiring their praise and approbation. I find myself – although I am ashamed to admit it – willingly entertaining my captors. Perhaps I am suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.
I can see and understand more. But every time I try to grasp how things are fitting together, they just seem to drift apart. It is all so complex. Even if I manage to physically resist – I don’t know how I can formulate a proper plan of escape.
I try, regularly, to remind myself that I must fight them. But it is getting harder by the day.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 138
I am regaining the use of my hands. They have begun to feed me more. Just gruel for now – but it is an improvement.
I feel like I am being brainwashed. Despite my best attempts, I am beginning to like my captors.
Perhaps with time I will reacquire my strength.
I saw myself in a mirror. I had to laugh.
Something is terribly wrong.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 180
I sat up.
I am identifying with my captors. I know so little. Other’s frighten me.
Perhaps I will never escape.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 225
I can move, finally.
I am reminded of my captivity.
I try, hourly, to escape.
But I am no match for those who are holding me; they recapture me as if it is a game.
My vision is finally unimpaired.
My speech is incomprehensible – but I am trying.
I hope to connect with other prisoners. I still hold out hope of escape.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 251
They reward me by giving me objects. They punish me by taking them away. I respond.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 287
I love my captors. They are teaching me to walk.
They are kind and generous.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 323
When they leave, I protest. I am overcome with joy at their return.
Prisoner’s Diary – Day 365
I have learned their names.
I speak them proudly, and repetitively.
“Ma Ma” and “Da Da”
I resist escape.