Another day of Rosa not shedding one tear for her dead baby. I love Rosa; she’s been a great friend, making me smile and laugh throughout the night, but there are a couple of things that say she could be guilty. One is her lack of sadness, and two is that she thinks she’s pregnant. If she is guilty of more than neglect, then she probably is pregnant because that’s totally something God would do – watch a woman kill her child, then reward her with another one. God dumps kids on murderers all the time. So knowing they have kids like rabbits, and seeing her only cry a few times, leads me to believe there’s a possibility she could be guilty, though I still doubt it. The times she’s cried were over visits when most of us cry anyway, including myself, because we miss our loved ones and our homes. Who knows, though? Maybe it was neglect or maybe the husband’s the guilty one. Or maybe it’s just a case of denial or maybe she feels crying will only make it worse and harder to deal with.

Fucking Misery’s on today. Everyone hates Misery. She’s as by-the-book as Palma and worse. They call her Misery because she not only brings misery to those she encounters but also because of her resemblance to this character in the Stephen King movie Misery.

First I was woken up for breakfast, then our hour out which none of us wanted because it was barely 7 AM, then again when Misery came in to check the light and window. Then she tells us to take our pictures off the walls. I took my pictures down, but I intend to put them back up later.

At 35 years of age, I’m sick and fucking tired of being told what to do! My life is nothing but what everyone else but myself says I have to do or have to go or have to be. I even have to wear the clothes they say I have to wear, and I’m just so fucking fed up with being treated like a child! My life is never going to belong to me.

Fucking freeloaders, Paul, judge and pigs!!!

Palma’s on again tonight. That’s 3 nights this week!

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It’s around 8:00 now and Tina’s gone to bed.

Palma was in a good mood, singing Christmas songs. In Spanish, I told her to sing Felíz Navidad, but she misunderstood me and thought I was wishing her a merry Christmas. “Gracías,” she said.

So on her next walk, I asked in English if she knew the song and would sing it, but she said (with a friendly smile) she didn’t know it. It was nice to see this serious gruff loosen up for a change. She opened the door, rather than the trap, when the trustee was serving dinner so I could get a better look at her.

Tina says Palma’s all masculine, but I disagree. Yes, she’s somewhat masculine, but to me, she’s feminine, too. Her hair’s feminine and she has gorgeous eyes. Nice smile, too. Only her nose isn’t very nice and she doesn’t have a great body either, although it’s really hard to see through her uniform. I don’t care so much about bodies as I do faces. I’m a face person because that’s what you see most of the time. I also don’t like ultra-feminine as much as I used to. I guess we lipstick lesbians, such as I’d be considered to be, really do prefer the bigger, stronger more masculine types that they can feel protected by.

Last night Rosa and I were playing this game where we’d put names to various globs of toothpaste under the upper bunks, depending on their shape.

If her commissary order goes through without any problems, she’ll have a radio tomorrow night. I hope she won’t always be singing to it when she gets hyped up (it’s bad enough dealing with her BO and bad breath)! Unlike most people, though, she’s usually pretty respectful when I’m trying to read or write.

I made a $23 order. I better get it, too!

In the afternoons, I can usually tell what time it is by where the slat of sunlight is on the wall. Someone apparently wrote the times in the different places the light hits, but of course, the angle will change with the seasons.

Just had my typical mid-cycle bleeding which goes on for a few hours. I’ll get another gush in about a week, the week before my period. My tits still get sore before periods, even without caffeine.

The black bitches were at each other’s throats again earlier. Screaming and threatening one another from their cells.

I went right along with the bitches, though, in yelling at Crazy next door when she was out on her hour. We brought her to tears, but I have no pity for her what with the way she behaves. Maybe she’ll learn something from this. In fact, she hasn’t gone bunk-banging at all today. It’s lessened since she got her meds, but as soon as she can’t get her way, the banging starts.

I flipped Misery off when she was in the tower. I’m pretty sure she saw me, but I don’t care either way. I’m sick of being told what to do. She never wrote me up, though. I guess sometimes they find it easier to ignore you and pretend they didn’t see or hear you do something you’re not supposed to do. It saves them a lot of paperwork.

Rosa and I both cried earlier. I hadn’t cried much since I last saw Tom, and I was laying on my bed crying for a while before Rosa realized I was crying, and hugged me, then began crying too, telling me to try not to be so sad so it doesn’t make me sick.

I’m just sooo homesick for Tom, the animals, the house, etc. Those freeloaders really stole my life, and my body, too. Because of them, I can’t cut my nails, take a shower when I want, etc. They own my whole life and my body, too. They robbed me of my husband, pets and home, and stole any control I may have had over my own body, too. This is one of those things we assume only happens to others. Only other people get framed, but never us!

I FUCKING HATE these sickos!!!!!!!!!!