Gangsta (OITNB/VAUSEMAN)

7 - Play the Game

"So when there's nothing left of me,
then,
your comfort will forever be,
held.
Go on and earn a beautiful life,
babe...-

Book in hand, sitting on her top right bed, Alex was impatiently reading this stanza for the third time now, promising herself that this time she'd really focus on the words. She caressed the page, folding the paper outside and dove back in.

"...Don't waste your time think of what I'd say,
my mind lives inside your head.
Just be happy oh you know,
me being gone is your time to take off-"

No, she wouldn't have it.

Not today.

Alex shut the book closed on it's pages in disappointment. She was looking foward to continue this new poetry novel she had started reading before prison, but oddly, she couldn't get in the mood. It was strange for Alex, not wanting to read. She had always have this attraction to poetry and reading books. Growing up as an only child, at a poor neighborhood with not so many kids around, aroused Alex's love for books. She became accustomed of spending time alone which she randomly dedicated to reading. And throughout the years, reading had received the status of not only a nice hobby, but a therapy as well.

Landing in prison however, kind of sabotage this love of hers for books, as she was having a hard time focusing everytime she held one. Her favorite thing to do now turned into a boring ritual she procrastinated over and over again, and it was a cold and unknown feeling.

Alex threw the book with no care on the mattress and laid down.

A week into prison and the stress was still kicking and alive. Annoyingly, there wasn't much to do about it, as job applications weren't available and bordom flooded free. Alex used her spare time pretty inefficiently, though. From failed attempts to read, to not even trying to make friends, including ignoring Nicky and Lorna when she met them in the hall. Yes, Alex was denying, completely not accepting the situation that she so hastily found herself in.

Unable to grab a good book and relax, Alex instead found relative peace in long walks around the prison; block, yard, cafetaria, and back. Everyday for these past seven days, she embraced such a routine. This way she was busy enough with physical activity that supplied her some certain break from her constantly train of thoughts.

In her journeys, Alex often stopped by the library. She had to take several breaks from walking due to her ruined knees, so the library functioned as the permenant resting position. She wouldn't read actually, and when she wasn't taking short naps, she spent her time observing; simply looking around. Alex liked listening to stillness, catch in her eyes people's mimics, interpret what is it that they could possibly be thinking about, what were they feeling. Alex earned the ability to randomly look at two people interacting at the library, and without even hearing what they say understand the dynamic between one to another. She used to sense what was beyond the surface, the words they wouldn't speak. This, in addition to her fertile imagination, created a story telling gift Alex had been blessed with. She could make up stories about the strangers she observed, guessing their life choices and inventing plot lines. Sometimes, she'd even write some of her ideas down, and when she couldn't fall asleep at night, she would develop them into scenes. Alex thought perhaps one day she could write her own book. It was definitely a dream; to set her mind free by expressing her ideas on paper, tell meaningful stories for others to read and identify with. She only wished she was brave enough to start dealing with this talent of hers right on.

Alex tilted her head left to the sight of the abandoned novel thrown on the sheets. A sigh. How could she write a book while she can't even read one?