rnkt

Irish Soup Journal
Notes - Ramblings - Poetry - Short Story - Art - Bull - Steve
3-13-17

I don't look anyone in the eyes anymore. I am afraid my face will show how I feel: seared, numb, angry and sad. I want to cry and cower under a warm blanket with my love with the windows open, not in this cold prison cell with its blinding fluorescent lights.

Chaos in the fundamental theory at the beginning and the end of the day.

It's the possibility of having your dreams come true that makes life worth going on for.

I'm 16, you're 17, and we've experienced many levels of love together. There seems be endless levels.

I grew up in a different world. The West ends. Honesty among thieves. A world that no longer exists or maybe it never existed except in my mind.

I've noticed that some of the people in charge here make up a lot of rules for their own benefit to hide their wrongdoings and hate behind.

All speaking is movement, even no movement. Silence can become speech. George Viiklewend.

I would like to try the adult coloring book trend. If someone would download some custom coloring sheets (bhg.com/coloring sheets) and send them to me, I would appreciate it. Something you would like a painting or drawing of. :)

You are like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. A long hug from you keeps the depression away. You are the keeper of my heart. ❤

I've learned that what makes a good correctional officer is a large dose of common sense, the ability to apply that common sense, and the willingness to see inmates as human beings. Bad correctional officers are ones who use their position to belittle others and go out of their way to start trouble.

I surely have problems, but right now I can't think of any. Walking the rain laughing with you is the only thing on my mind. ❤

Rules for a good relationship: no sudden moves, don't crowd the other person, and keep disastrous thoughts to yourself. Know to follow rule 2. :) I love you. ❤