It’s late and I’m freezing.
I was given this sorry excuse for a blanket and expected to keep warm.
What are they thinking?
The blanket has more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese.
I was told to cope with my new surroundings, but who can live, let alone cope, in this situation. Even the cockroaches have moved out.
I don’t know why I’m wasting my time writing to you in this stupid journal. You don’t know my feelings or what I’m going through. You’re like everyone else in my life; clueless. I’m writing my deepest, darkest thoughts and you just lay there and do nothing. You never help me.
This journal was a stupid idea. Who cares about you anyways? Do I really think your going to help change my life or get me out of this situation?
No! Yet I continue to confide in you anyways.
This journal has been nothing, but trouble for me. Do you hear me? Trouble! I should just throw you in the trash where you belong. Why are you trouble, you ask? Writing these stupid words will never set me free. It won’t let me escape my past, let alone these four walls. I’m caged like a wild animal. There is no escape. No matter how much I tell you or complain, words won’t get me out of here. Words won’t fix what’s broken. Words won’t give me my life back. You may think you’re helping me, but the truth is you’re not helping me solve anything. You suck–just like everything else in my life.
BUY NOW: A Story of Survival