I wake up early at 6 a.m. It’s a habit I picked up back in my early 20s, when I was a defense contractor for a private security firm. I’ll get all the sleep I need when I’m dead. 

I’ve made myself a “nest” — that’s what one of my street friends calls my makeshift pile of pillows and blankets — in my solitary confinement cell. I stretch my neck as I first wake, the prison mattress doing nothing for my bullet-damaged back. Then I put on my daily clothes: pink socks, pink shorts and a pink shirt. 

It’s hard to find joy in prison. It takes a strong will, a small dash of cunning and a lot of “little things” — those tiny comforts and small moments that bring us peace, comfort, happiness and maybe even a bit of laughter. 

I walk over to my cell door. My electronic tablet lies on the floor. I’m in one of the rare solitary cells that doesn’t have electrical outlets. I have to turn the tablet in to a corrections officer to charge overnight. I tsk in frustration and make a mental reminder to send a note to the unit supervisor about the charging situation. He says they’re working on a solution, but I doubt it. I brush my teeth, pull out my prayer rug, then proceed to do my second of five prayers of Islam for the day.

I hear the pod doors open and immediately know it’s breakfast. I’ve been in solitary for almost a full year this time around and know the schedule like the back of my hand. Corrections officers go cell to cell, passing out warm breakfasts — never hot.

“Morning,” the officer says as he reaches my cuff port, or the slot in my door. I grunt in acknowledgment. I’m not one for speaking. I take my tray back to the nest and down the oatmeal. I set the tray aside and check my messages on my tablet. I reply to the most important ones right away and save the rest for later. Then I turn off my tablet to save battery, so it’ll last throughout the day. 

I turn on the channel guide on my TV. Usually nothing good is on, so I turn on one of my favorite regulars, “Impractical Jokers,” immediately laughing at the scene unfolding before my bespectacled eyes. 

“Those guys are priceless,” I think to myself. 

I listen to the comedy show in the background as I scoop up a book I’m reading. It’s the first book in a fantasy series I bought. I keep a personal schedule like this every day, in part because it helps me save battery life on my tablet, but also because it helps things feel normal. 

After a couple of hours lost in a fantasy world — magic, elves and more — I put the book aside in exchange for my tablet. I crack my fingers in anticipation, knowing what comes next. It’s time to game and get lost in my own little nerd realm. My current favorites are Eye of the Beholder (a Dungeons & Dragons campaign) and Tactics Ogre: The Knight of Lodis.

After a couple of hours swiping my fingers, my hand cramps. I watch a few episodes of a series I’m binging on the tablet, then I tap the screen and buy two episodes of “The Vampire Diaries” for $2.17 each. 

I’ve seen all of it before, but hearing my homies in the cells next to mine talk about it all the time made me feel a little nostalgic, and I decided to rewatch it. As it starts to play, the earbuds sitting easily in my ears, I make a small but thick cup of coffee. And since I’m not a sipper, I chug the whole cup back and instantly gag. 

I go back to my nest and start to go through my journals and composition papers that hold all of the stories I’ve created over time. I want to decide which one to work on today. 

One of the new books I’ve started writing is my own fantasy story of magic and love, the strong and the weak. It has no title yet. I grab the pad and flip it open. I left off on Page 35, Chapter 3. I reread the last few pages, then dive in. 

I write, listening to one of my fantasy shows in the background, and smile. It’s in this moment, this little thing, as my pen creates a new realm, that my world grows.