Journal entry from Nathan Ybanez

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Editor's Note: These are excerpts from a journal written by Nathan Ybanez, who is serving life without parole after killing his mother. Except for items in parentheses, which give context, the information appears in its original form, unedited.

Concentration Camp of the Soul: Life inside a Colorado Prison

A prison journal by Nathan Ybanez, who entered prison at 16 and is now 24. He's serving life without parole.

4/14/05: Today was canteen day. Everything is always so hectic on canteen day. All the men scramble around frantically to settle debts. Here people deal in food and hygiene. Objectively I can stand back and look at the humor of two grown men wanting to fight each other over a few soups and a bar of soap, but I don't laugh. Here people hardly have anything so small things become very important.

I don't buy much canteen. I try to live mostly off what they feed us, but it's hard sometimes. The portions are often small, and a third of the meals are hard to force down. Many of the men in here freak out if they don't have canteen. I think the act of eating helps them forget where they area a little.

Day 2: Today and yesterday were hectic days. The cops know somebody is tattooing in the pod ././. but they haven't been able to find it. They hate when they can't find things. So, they've been kind of harassing everyone. Shaking down everyone's rooms and acting hostile. In case you're wondering, a "shake-down" is when you are forced out of your room by 2 guards who tear everything in your cell up looking for stuff they can take from you. Most of us don't have very much, but regardless I've never seen a cop leave from a shake down without a garbage bag full of stuff. Then, after they've shook you down, you've got to go put everything back in order because it's like a tornado hit it. And hope nothing dear to you has been taken because you'll have to fight tooth and nail to get it back if you get it back at all.

Day 3: (In the past) I've had to stand my ground and be prepared to kill a couple men because they were preying on me. But, I'm fortunate and happy to say I've never been forced to stab anybody, and I haven't been raped. There have been a few times I was completely terrified. There have been times I felt the hands of death near. But because I stood my ground with strength I'm now left alone. But, to get to a place where people leave you alone your personality has to change. You really do have to be willing to seriously injure or kill people if the need arises, and you have to be prepared to die because if things go to that level it's a possibility. Now, most times things can be resolved with a fight. Still, prison permanently changes you in that regard. You have to become hard, or break apart.

(On the frustrations of prison life and following rules and orders that sometimes make no sense:) Like Chinese water torture. Eventually that drip comes which sends you over the edge into madness. And the people outside looking in think, "How foolish! It was only a drop of water!"

In the same way I both saw and felt the potential for these men to explode. And it made me angry as well. On the streets you can go home to get away from the frustrations of the world, or at least to some place with peace. Here, you go nowhere. You can't. And there is no place of peace. So when I see somebody snap over something seemingly small, I don't laugh.

Day 4: Today was an all right day. But I got very tired. That happens a lot in here. I get tired for no reason. Even after sleeping all night. Maybe it's because I never sleep well. Maybe it's because this place steals my energy.

Day 5: I've been really stoked about stealing these new heavy-duty sporks from chow. You see, in prison you don't get any silverware. You get really flimsy sporks and knives. That might not seem like a bad thing to you, but try eating a slab of meat, or something you really need a fork for with a plastic Spork and knife. After about a week of struggling with your food you really miss metal silverware.

Generally, there are two ways people in here feel about all the loss. Some people get really angry about the little things. Others miss the big things.

Because I got locked up so young (16) I didn't get to do hardly any of the big things. I've driven a car less than 10 times. Never even had a driver's license. I can count on one hand the number of girlfriends I've had. Only 2 of them were real. The others just kid crushes. And I never had sex with any of them. (Yea, ha, ha. Laugh, but I were abused and had a bad childhood so sex was a real issue with me.) I was waiting for the right girl. I've never been in a bar. Never been to an art gallery. Never paid taxes. You get the idea never really did anything.

Now, of these two viewpoints. I'd say the first one predisposes a person towards institutionalization. And the other protects them from it-- or leads to death and suicide and lots of violence. Recognizing this, I cultivate my pain. I don't wanna forget how much I hate this place or desire my freedom. 'Cause if that happens there's no point in living anymore. And if I die, I'd rather it be somebody killing me while I'm trying to escape, than killing myself.

Today my friend I play guitar with left. I don't know where he went, but I know he won't be coming back. That's another thing that's hard about prison. This isolation, or alienation, whatever; the point is you can't find anybody to get close to because you, or they, always get moved. Every time they move one of your friends it's a cold truth you may never see them again in this life. And it hurts. So, the longer someone is in prison the less friends they make. They get tired of everyone being taken away from them. Eventually, they hardly speak to anybody, and that's sad, because many of these people have a lot to share, but it will die away with them. I'm still a "youngster," still a fool, because I still allow myself to develop bonds with people. I still let people touch my heart. But, slowly and ceaselessly, this prison system is destroying those good, human qualities I still possess. I tell myself all the time I won't let these people and this system mold me, but the truth of the matter is it is happening in small ways. If the truly important parts of myself get taken I hope I have enough awareness to kill myself.

Day 7: Today was a good day. I got to go to the law library and study the law in the morning. I have to study the law if I want a chance to get out of here.

And, I got a letter from a friend. I write to that said she graduated from college. Mail is extremely important to guys in here. For many people, it's all they have that keeps them going. So, here's to good days! They should be cherished.

She sent me an invitation to her graduation. It made me fell?like I was happy, but falling at the same time. I was so touched that she thought enough about me to send me something. But I was sad cause I can't be in that world. I never even graduated high school, so I don't know what it's like to feel that sense of accomplishment, but I would really love to be there to congratulate this girl. It's strange getting things like that in the mail because they are links to a world I've never known. You wish you were there, even though you don't know what it's like. You figure because everyone looks so happy it's gotta be a wonderful place.

Day 9: Today, I typed up a flyer describing how to order from the Tattered Cover Bookstore. My plan is to somehow get copies of it, and flood this prison with them. Why? Because we aren't allowed to have catalogues here. Sound stupid? Senseless? It is. It seems this prison really doesn't want any inmates ordering books, magazines, and newspapers. They make it so difficult. In fact, it's even difficult to get to the library here. They only allow us to go to the library (well, my unit at least) 3 days a week. Two of those days I work. And, when I do have time to go, it's very difficult to get a pass. Only a certain amount of people are allowed at the library, so you need a pass to go there. Because so many people need to go, there' always a large line.

So, you see, nothing is easy in here. Yesterday I spent an hour waiting to try to go to the library. Surprising, as it may seem, there's not that long of a wait. I won't even go into the hostile atmosphere you meet when you get to the library.

Anyway, the last 3 days I 've been dead tired for no reason. I find, periodically, that happens to me. I can barely walk to chow. I was commenting on it to another inmate who's been down (been locked up) many years. He said, "It's this place that does it to you. It just drags you down-- steals your energy. Don't matter how much sleep you get. It's not your body that's tired." He's right.

Day 10: In a cell there are two bunks. That means two people. The cell is about 15' long by 8 ' feet wide. The bunks are at the back end. They are about 3' wide. And on one side of the cell, there is a 2' wide desk. All things are steel or concrete. Oh, and there's a steel combination toilet/sink next to the door. That's not very much space for two adult people. Especially when, on average, 14-16 hours there together. On lock-down you'll spend 23 hours there together. Think about how much tension can exist between two people living in the same house. That's the same house! Now imagine that tension being reduced and compacted into a single small room. Insane. It can be very insane. Especially in a place that is full of negativity. And many of the people here have many deep problems. So, it's very difficult to find peace here. As I said, every thing here is steel or concrete. No carpet of course. And that has a large impact when you fight in these cells. With all the tension it's normal that there would be a lot of fights.

Because there really is nothing to do here, but these people force us to be "full-time assigned" (work 8 hours a day) people end up being forced into classes they've already taken 2 or 3 times. I've taken anger management 3 times. And none of it was worth anything. What has been helpful are my own private studies. There are, basically, No educational programs here. But I've studied many things on my own. And the spiritual stuff here is negative. All the Christians are delusional, and covering up personal problems with empty actions and words, instead of being naked and going through the pain of fixing them. The meditation the Buddhists teach is good though. I'm not a Buddhist, but learning to be aware of and control your thoughts and emotions is great. I wish everyone learned it.

It's hard to find peace in here. If there was a place where each of us could find some alone time it would be easier, but there is no alone time here. And it's loud. Noise all the time. I blast my fan and radio so I don't have to hear the yelling and keys and all the things that make me want to scream and cut my brain to pieces. A consistent sound is easier to deal with. One thing this place does to make me strong. Somebody could try to kill me right now, and I don't think it would bother me much. I''m in a constant struggle as it is, so it actually might be a bit of relief.

These steel bunks are difficult to sleep on. Between your body and the steel is a plastic foam mat that is about 1 ½ " thick. Everything is so soft where you guys live. Do you realize that? Hugs are soft. Don't underestimate their value. There are no hugs here. Well! Back to my studies.

Day 11: Tonight it's silent in here. Like whoever makes the world each day decided to give us a break. There's no yelling, no ringing metal, no jingling keys, no stomping boots, no slamming doors, no jarring laughter, or roaring vents. Nothing. And it is so blessed I wish I could have just a little bit of silent peace every week. I won't get greedy and ask for it every day. Just one time a week. But, this is so rare. The vents are always on. They are so loud. You wouldn't think that, but they're like those jets. I've grown used to them over the years, but then a night like tonight will come along and remind me of how things are supposed to be. And I feel my soul just relax. And it's surprising because you thought you were relaxed. But you weren't. You'd just grown used the tension. So, I'm thankful for this night when I'm reminded of how things should be. And I breathe in the silence.

Day 12: I'm bubbling with frustration and anger today. I know, logically, it's futile, but things have just "gotten" to me today. That drip of water that could send me over the edge is getting mighty close. Good thing it's lock-down. So many little frustrations today. For the last 2 days there've been all these "visitors" here. "Visitors" are people dressed in civilian clothes with nametags who are escorted around the prison by other cops. The cops talk to them and show them the prison, us inmates, and everything else. I hate visitors. I have no idea who these people are.

It's an angering experience having these people watch you. All of us feel it to be very disrespectful. It's like this is a zoo and they consider us some strange breed.

To these people we aren't human. To them we are sub-human. What we think or how we feel doesn't matter. They way I feel, it's enough punishment to be here and be persecuted for the rest of your life because you have a felony on your record. They don't need to gawk at us. Another thing-these "visitors" don't see real prison because the guards clean up their acts when they're around.

The law makes no room for the surrounding circumstances of a crime. Most people in here have things that, if they were known, make their "crime: seem like it's reasonable. We all do things that re wrong. We all make mistakes. And there should be compassion for those who are not perfect. We should try to make them better people so they can make right the things they've done wrong.

Day 13: Today I went to a college class Adam's State College is offering called "Development of Civilization." I don't qualify for this class. In order to qualify you must be under 25 and have less than 3 years to your P-E-D (Parole Eligibility Date). Because the state of Colorado gives people so many years few people qualify to take the college course they're offering. But, I asked respectfully if I could sit in and listen without receiving credit. At first the instructor was hesitant. He said DOC had a negative stance towards the college program and he was bound by what they said. But he let me stay in the end. There are 12 people in the class, and it was delayed a week because there almost weren't enough people who qualified to even hold the class. But I'm glad they are holding because that means I get to learn.

Now, DOC did say that if we don't "qualify" to take the class we can pay for it. But the cost is $375. That is a lot of money for someone who has no way to make money.

In here (remember I said you're forced to work) they pay you 60 cents a day if you work all day. That translates to $12 month. With that $12 you have to buy everything you need (soap, stamps, etc?) and pay for medical ($5 a visit) if you need to go. On top of that, most people have to pay money (restitution) to the court, which means 20% of everything they make is taken immediately by DOC. Twenty per cent of $12 is $2.40. So, you can see it's difficult to get an education here. But, I 'm happy they are finally offering something positive for these guys in here. It's cool to see these guys excited about learning. The instructor even allowed me to check out a textbook.

Day 14: (On his lack of sympathy for inmates who have been beaten by other inmates:) I feel like they shouldn't dwell on their hardships, but should continue on with life. That's a sign of strength. Giving in to your pain is almost like giving up, and that's wrong. Maybe I shouldn't feel this way, but I do. If I felt the pain of everyone I meet who's in suffering I wouldn't survive. So, I've changed my way of interacting with the world. Plus, physical pain is so minor! It all heals rather quickly. But metal and emotional pain wound so deeply sometimes they never heal.

I've seen a lot of people get f----- up in here. And it almost never fazes me. It did when I first came to prison, but no longer. Perhaps that's another sign of institutionalization. But it enables me to function so I can work towards bettering myself and attaining my freedom.

A lot of people say they're going to kill themselves in here, or try. When I was in a different "facility" than I am now I probably saw 10 people climb outside the rail on the third tier (probably 30-35') and prepare themselves to jump headfirst. Remember, it's all steel and concrete here, so you can imagine the mess. When this would happen you'd have guys come out, group up and start cheering.

"Hey! Jump! Do it! You're f------ worthless!"

Now I never saw anybody actually jump. But there've been instances where people did. And lots of times they didn't die! That's probably worse than dying.

The main reason everyone cheered for these guys to kill themselves was because most of the time the person out on the rail had stabbed a lot of people in the back, or something along those lines. They weren't considered "good" people.

Maybe another reason these guys in here cease caring about other people is because the world ceased caring about them.

Some of the things in here are hard to express or explain. If you care you're vulnerable. If you care about something the possibility exists for you to feel afraid. And there's nothing worse than feeling alone and afraid. Since you're always alone in here, at least you can kill off your fear. Since I've trained myself not to feel upset by physical pain or death there's not much that causes me to fear. And since I don't have any relationships of any depth in here there's not much to fear emotionally. So, I'm kind of protected. I know the rest of the dudes in here, or at least a majority feel the same. That's why many cut themselves off from their loved ones on the streets. It's not that they don't love them — they love them too much. If you hold onto something like that in here it'll end up killing you.

Of course, I'm not as smart as the rest of these guys. I still allow myself to write people — to stay connected to them, and love them. Maybe it'll be my downfall.

Day 15: So in prison you never see any water except for what comes out of the shower or the sink. In fact, the most water you see is what's in the toilet. Sometimes the mop bucket. Missing water isn't one of the obvious things you'd think about, when it comes to prison. But you definitely feel the loss. I imagine what it used to feel like to swim — to have my whole body submerged in water. But it's hard to remember. I think it felt relaxing and vivifying.

The way the showers work here is a button. There's a nozzle (metal, like all things here) and water sprays out of it. There are no temperature controls, so you can't make the water comfortable. You just push the button, and after about 3 seconds the water shoots out. It stays on for a pre-determined amount of time and then you have to push the button again. Many times the water is either uncomfortably cold (read, like an ice-box) or hot (read, scalding). And, the showers are right in the middle of the pod, so there's no real privacy. Yes, you do have a shower curtain, but it's clear plastic on top and bottom so the cop can see you.

When you first get to prison you have trouble getting used to the showers. You feel tense and vulnerable — and you are. When I first go here I wore all my clothes to the shower. I didn't want to walk anywhere without being fully dressed. I knew it was dangerous. Especially if you're young, small sized and good-looking. I was all those things. And extremely homophobic. But, with time you get used to it. So, I don't wear much anymore. And the uncomfortable feeling of showering doesn't bother me much anymore either. I don't look at water as something relaxing anymore. It's just practical. Prison is full of these things. Stuff that used to bring you comfort on the streets brings you little to no comfort in here. Because of this you grow harder. You loose your manners. But, in other ways, you learn to be respectful. It's almost like this is a different culture. Norms that are followed out there don't mean much in here. And norms that don't even exist out there become quite important in here.

We don't have faucets here. Remember I said your sink is also your toilet. The sink puts out water like a drinking fountain. It's like a drinking fountain with two buttons — one for hot and one for cold. And, because you have to keep pushing the buttons to keep the arc of water going, it gets annoying. But, you can get most things accomplished with it. Except wash your clothes. You get written up for washing your own clothes here. Does that sound strange? That's because it's another one of those rules that doesn't make sense. You're also not allowed to hang your clothing so they can dry if they're wet. These are things you could get written up for.

Day 16: I'm sitting here looking out of my window. The windows in this cell are placed in the middle of the wall opposite the sliding steel door. There are two. Each is about the length of your pen high, and a yardstick wide 6" deep. A skinny guy like me might barely be capable of squeezing my head into it sideways. It's Plexiglas, and doesn't open of course. But at least I can see the grassy hillside beyond the fences (there's 3 of them, ringed with razor-wire and one is electrified with 10,000 volts). For some reason, in Ad Seg (solitary) they place metal plates on the outside of the windows so you can't see out of them. There's no security reason for this because the windows are exactly the same as these ones. So, it's obviously a way to cause you torment mentally. And in some holes you don't have any windows. I was in one that felt like a dungeon. It was very dark there. And not much space to do push-ups. We laughed about being there at the time, but it wasn't funny. Anyway, you probably wouldn't think depriving someone of fresh air and the ability to see the outside sky and ground is very important. But, it actually affects you deeply subconsciously. These days, out there, everyone spends so much time indoors the thought of losing the outdoors doesn't seem too harsh. But, I can tell you — when I saw a sky without fences, or metal grating between it and my eyes for the first time, after coming out of Ad Seg (I spent 2 years there) I was overwhelmed. I wanted to breathe all of it in. It was so?peaceful and liberating. Unfortunately, they put me back in lockdown for 7 more days before releasing me into population. All of us were mad about that. We'd figured we'd done our time.

Then, when I went to court they escorted me through a normal parking lot before placing me in a van (inside the van is a cage like a kennel for humans). I felt like crying. I was so surprised by the horizon. There were no walls! No fences! Nothing! I could see as far as my eyes could see. And there were trees! The experience is very hard to describe. It's like seeing the most beautiful thing in the world — something directly connected to the divine, something transcendental — for the first time. It was awe inspiring and magnificent. My breath stopped. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten what things looked like without walls, razor wire, and fences. I wonder how many other things I've forgotten?

This is another way prisoners are different than all of you. We've seen things from a perspective you can't imagine. Because of this we think differently than you. We attach importance to things you don't think twice about. And we get angry about these seemingly unimportant things being interfered with or taken. Our reactions seem extreme, but if you experienced what we experience you'd see the rational nature of how we act.

For instance, in Ad Seg and the hole they have a tendency to not give you your "hour-out" into the outside cage when they're lazy or have a facility lock-down or something of that nature. When an inmate doesn't get their hour out they react violently a lot of the time. Of course these cops think, "How irrational! It's only an hour and you're acting like a madman!" But to the inmate that 1-hour out of his/her cell 5 times a week might be the only thing that keeps them feeling human and sane. There's so much depression in here usually it's only a handful of things that keep you holding on. The love of just one of those things could make you upset enough to kill somebody. Is a prisoner wrong to severely hurt or kill someone who causes him/her such pain and torment they don't feel as thought they can even exist anymore! Is anybody wrong for that? I don't know. But I sympathize with people pushed to that level. I see it nearly every day. One thing is for sure — regardless of morals, you can only push a human being so far before they break. When something breaks it doesn't just injure itself, it injures anyone around it the broken pieces reach.

There are people out there (you might be one) who think prison needs to be about torture and torment. But few people think to the future when those people who've been tortured and tormented over the years are released back into society. They commit more crimes. And the level of crime is nearly always greater. This is because of the pain they've experienced; nobody here respects the law. In prison you learn to hate the law.

In India there was (and largely still is) a caste system. At the bottom rung (in fact mostly not even considered a true caste) were the pariahs, the "untouchables." These were criminals, prisoners, and slaves. They weren't even considered to be human and was looked on with disgust. I see these people in here. WE are the pariahs. And no matter how fancy the words are you use, or how clean you make the prison appear, the fact is these poor souls are considered throwaways by you — society. Look within yourself and those around you objectively and you'll see what I'm saying is true.