Hello everyone; This is day 12,241 of my mental and emotional prison sentence. Yes I really can remember the exact day when everything started - all the despair, hopelessness and fear. "Solitary confinement" can be just as much a psychological hell as a physical one. Naturally, by this point, after literally thousands of interminable days and nights trapped in the shadows of life, I am not wildly pleased when I hear people say "it'll pass." Really? In which particular century might that take place?