Just Because You Haven’t Heard from Me…

 

-by Ryan

It’s been a minute, I know.

Some of y’all probably thought I disappeared, went dark, or gave up.
Nah.

I’ve just been fighting battles that don’t come with warning shots.
I’ve been surviving behind walls that don’t care about progress.
And I’ve been silenced in every way they know how to silence a man without a noose.

But I’m still here.

Still breathing.
Still pissed off.
Still holding onto a sliver of something that looks like hope.

When you’re in this place long enough, you start learning the difference between “quiet” and “forgotten.”
I’ve been both.
But I’m not gonna be either anymore.

The truth is, they don’t like men like me talking.
Not because I’m violent. Not because I’m a threat.
But because I’m waking up.
Because I see through the bullshit.

Because I’m the kind of inmate that doesn’t just want out—I want change.

And that? That’s dangerous.

Since my last blog, they’ve sent me to max. Again.
Because of lies. Because of labels. Because of a file someone padded with fiction and fear.

It’s been almost ten years to the day since I first walked into a max yard as a 17-year-old kid.
Now here I am, 26, just days from 27, and I’m being branded all over again.
Not for something I did, but for something they say I am.

A shot-caller. A gang head. A threat.
Funny how you can say “I’m not affiliated” till you’re blue in the face, sign papers saying the same, and they’ll still decide who you are for you.

That’s how it works in here.

Your words don’t matter.
Your actions? Irrelevant.
All that matters is what looks good in their report.
What fits their narrative.
What keeps their power protected.

They say prison is about rehabilitation.
That’s bullshit and barbed wire.

This isn’t about correction.
It’s about control.

But here’s the part they didn’t plan for:

I’m still telling my story.
From the hole. From max. From the concrete floor where they hoped I’d break.
And I’ll keep telling it, because silence is what lets them win.

So no, I haven’t posted in a while.
But don’t mistake the pause for surrender.

I’ve been in the storm, collecting fuel.
And I’m still here.
Still writing.
Still changing.

For me.
For my wife.
For every single one of you who’s ever felt voiceless, labeled, or buried alive in a system built to forget you.

Let this be the reminder:

Just because you haven’t heard from me… doesn’t mean I’m not coming back louder.

—
#BehindBarsUnfiltered #StillStanding #StillFighting #MaxSecurityMindset #TruthBehindBars