Editor’s notes: This is part of a letter Ray sent to me about a conversation he had with his neighbor. The post is generated with Ray’s permission.

Today we went to commissary, and Shorty, I always make sure to get what I need first. After that, I use the rest of my funds to cover any extras. I made some food and ended up feeding nearly the entire second row—14 cells total, with people on both the first and second floors. I got to bless six people. I shared food with some, while others got coffee, food, or cookies. Even after feeding six people, I still have enough for myself, so I’m good.

One guy said, “Man, I haven’t eaten something so good in three years.” It brought tears to my eyes, but I had to laugh. Another guy, an older Black man, maybe in his late 60s or early 70s, caught my attention. I don’t even know him, never talked to him, but something inside told me to give him something. I had a bag of food already packed with extra cookies, so I gave it to him. I always hear him say things like, “I’ll trade a roll of toilet paper for a stamp or a soup.” I remembered that because I pay close attention to my surroundings, which is so important in prison.

In prison, just like in the streets, you have to be aware of your surroundings—how people move, walk, talk, their body language, tattoos, colors, facial expressions. If you don’t pay attention, you could get hurt, robbed, or worse. It’s a habit, and I always make sure I have more than one exit—never let anyone corner you. Life here sucks, and it’s exhausting to live constantly surrounded by animosity and negativity.

Anyway, I felt like I was feeding the homeless today. I gave another guy some coffee, but he kind of burned me out because he kept sending someone to ask for more. I told him when we go to commissary, I’d share some with him. I bought one bag specifically to split between three people since I don’t even drink coffee. But he kept asking, and it felt like he was trying to take advantage. That’ll be the last time I help him. In prison, if someone tries to take your kindness for weakness, you get nothing from me. If they want to fight, stab, or whatever, fine—but you’re not going to play me like I’m weak.

I don’t want to be that person, but in prison, you have to be tough or you’ll get run over. It sucks, but that’s just how it is. Every prison is tough, and some are even worse than others, but you have to stay strong. Sigh… prison is complicated. I just want to live somewhere peaceful, where I don’t have to worry about this messed-up life and can focus on positive things, find success.

On a positive note, I started watching a video on accounting, specifically on cash accounting and accrual accounting. It covered revenue, expenses, profits, cash accounts, accounts receivable, and deferred revenue. Accrual accounting seems more specific, showing exactly what’s done with the money. I’m going to watch it again and take notes because it’s helpful. When I get out, I’ll keep learning.

Oh, and this mouse tried to get in my cell again! He was chewing on the paper outside the door. At first, I thought I was hearing things, but I caught him and scared him away. Funny little guy, but he’s not turning my cell into a toilet!