What is it with these night DOs not turning off the lights? I’ll have to ask Tate again. Maybe there is something wrong with this light. LaBorde wondered the same thing. She had to wake me up to tell me about it, too. She came and said she was just wondering why my light wasn’t on. Now, couldn’t she have just stood outside and wondered that to herself and not woken me up from the very entertaining dream I was having? I could’ve strangled her for waking me up from the best part!

I was God only knows where with Johnson. We were standing with our arms around each other. Her hand slowly slid up my thigh and under my skirt, towards my ass. I stood up on my toes to pull her face towards mine and she began to pull me towards her, too. Just as we were about to kiss, she fucking woke me up! I was furious at her for cheating me out of my kiss! How dare she rob me of my kiss! See, God gave me the wrong gift. Being able to see past and future events is fine, but why couldn’t I have been telekinetic if only for today?! I swear that stun gun of hers would fly up out of its holster with my mind concentrating on it, and then I’d zap the shit out of that loud, obnoxious mouth!

Finally! She just cut the light but I can still write with the dayroom lit up.

Trying to sleep in M Dorm is nearly impossible! Especially when you’re on my schedule. It’s quieter as far as the inmates go, but I hear every single fucking thing they say over the intercom. A Tower has an intercom in the dayroom too, but each room also has its own intercom, unlike M, so they have to address it to everyone when someone has a visit or whatever.

In A Tower, they also don’t yell for medical tanks or clothes exchanges, though I’m kind of glad they do that here with clothes exchanges so I don’t get stuck in the same zebra outfit for weeks at a time.

There are also rec calls, too. Those are usually early so they can piss people off by waking them up, and so they can hope no one’s awake enough to want to go. That way that’s one less thing they have to deal with. Most DOs are lazy.

God, I’ve been writing like hell! There’s not much else to do, though.

It feels like it’s been years since I’ve hugged and kissed Tom, played with Houdini, enjoyed my computer and other stuff, gone to stores, had coffee and my favorite foods. I wish April 29th would hurry up and get here!

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Mena’s got the TV on now, so I gotta listen to that shit.

The place reeks of bleach, thanks to Maria. Somebody, get that loud, obsessive-compulsive clean freak out of here!

Bangert let Ida give me things earlier. She gave me about 40 pieces of paper, 3 envelopes, 5 pencils and 5 little tubes of toothpaste.

Back in December when I was in A with Carolyn and Monday, Carolyn suggested a good title for my Estrella jail story would be: Why am I Here?

But I know why I’m here. How many more times do I have to tell that to people?! I’m here to be punished for leaving a noisy city and getting a beautiful home. At first I thought I’d title it: My Estrella Jail Nightmare. However, I don’t think I’ll use either one of those.

I still can’t believe I’m in jail for something I wrote and for this long! We have freedom of verbal speech, but God help us should we write it down and send our journals through the mail! That’s fucked. Totally fucked!

Another issue is how old this case is. This was years ago! Gosh, why not punish me for the little boy I bullied around in the first grade?! And if I’m some stalker, what am I doing living out in the middle of nowhere? Don’t real stalkers prefer cities?

The more I think about this job thing, the more it burns me up. I’m really frustrated right now. What we do with our lives should be irrelevant. If I wanted my job to be dealing drugs, that’d be different, but you mean I can’t be a homemaker because of something I wrote? I gotta get a whole new job and lifestyle for that? Fuck that shit! What the fuck does my occupation have to do with anything? I’m not getting an additional job and I’m not changing my life over this shit! I didn’t kill anybody and I’m not about to be anybody’s slave, either! They can make me stay here till April 29th, but they can’t tell me what the fuck to do with my life out there! I’m nobody’s liar. I’m not telling them what they want to hear, and I’m not going to be forced to be somebody I’m not and try to handle a lifestyle that isn’t suitable for me, whether or not transportation’s an issue. I’m sick of society and the fucked up fucking mother-fucking system trying to control me!

I’m in the shittiest of moods right now! Why do I even bother living? I should’ve killed myself before October 30th when I had the bad vibes and knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Now I’m stuck having to live through this shit and if being free goes to my head once I get out of here, I’m never going to get up the nerve to kill myself!