Sewer Gnats

Dear Diary,

I feel like a pebble trapped inside a flow of decaying molasses. 

My body aches from the thin mattress and the night horrors that have become extensions of my punishment here. I don't think I've ever paid much attention to the rusty faucet at the corner of the cell – our only source of water – a testament to the disregard for our basic humanity. 

The faucet trickles reluctantly, dispensing a meager stream of lukewarm water that barely quenches the thirst that plagues me throughout the night. As salty as it is, every drop feels like a lifeline, perhaps the only gentle thing in this abyss.

Today, I feel empty - a hollow shell of the person I used to be. The scars of this place are etched into my skin and eternally imprinted on my soul. It's a daily confrontation with the person I've become, the only version of myself that can survive in this place.

 The communal bathroom is a breeding ground for disease. The cracked tiles beneath my worn-out sandals, the pungent aroma of decay, and the flickering light overhead amplify the degradation of the human spirit. The long line of men, each waiting for their turn at the grimy sink, is a collective reminder that we're all condemned to this pitiless fate.

The bathroom used to make me nauseous when I first got here, but this place brings out the worst in people. I think it brought out the insect spirit out of me. I navigate the bathrooms like a toilet fly. We are toilet flies living in one large sewage system, and the guards must think that basic hygiene will kill us.

We have been stripped of humanity and forced to exist in squalor. We have been stripped of basic human dignity and left to spread diseases amongst ourselves. The dirt and decay spreads from the skin to the soul.

We live like sewer gnats.