That’s what we all are.
Prisoners of our hopes and dreams. Our fears and desires.
The bond. Your kids. Money. Status.
One way or the other, we’re all prisoners.
Difference is, I work to keep my prison going. Or I would if I could find a job. I fight to keep my bars in place – my responsibilities toward my children, my bond, my municipality. It’s the main reason I get up in the morning. To keep my prison and it’s bars safe against the outside world.
I don’t steal.
I don’t embezzle funds.
I don’t murder people for their cellphones.
Those people go to prison. In a jail. With metal bars. And I get to pay for them to be fed, and clothed and housed.
They commit the crimes and I pay for those crimes.
They kill and maim and steal, and I pay the price.
They want what I have. But they don’t want my life. They don’t want to work for their house. They don’t want to sweat to own the cool phone, or to eat, or have a car to drive around in.
They want what I have without working for it.
Why are their so many prisons in the world? Why do they even bother trying to rehabilitate the inmates? Because I do think those people don’t want to rahabilitate. Why should they work if somebody else can do it for them?
As long as governments insist on treating criminals better than citizens, the prisons will be full.
Full of lazy people. Full of self righteous people, thinking the world at large, and citizens in particular, ows them a living.
I say, ban them to an island. Let them fend for themselves. Force them to learn that food needs to be grown and looked after. That meat does not magically appear in the freezer section of your next mark. That you really CAN live without the bling and the jumping car… That being part of a gang is not quite as cool as you might think it is.
Feel what it feels like to be in my prison for a while.
Maybe, just maybe, it suits a bit better – to have bars of your own making, and happily living with them, than to be forced behind bars of somebody else’s making, and unhappily existing.