Day Fifty-Eight

Normally reading distracts me from the world, but now I have found myself distracted from reading. It makes sense. The life I've been living has turned into something quite remarkable. No one would believe it. It's a real intense story, and I bet if I were to write it down many people would be looking for a copy. There's an idea. When I get out of here, I can write my story down, put it under a man's name of course, and then sell it. There must be someone out there who would be willing to sell a woman's work so long as no one knows the author is a woman. I could make a living for myself, but that still brings me back to my first problem. Whenever my father passes, I would not have the right to keep our land. I would have no house to live in, not unless I married and if my husband took care of me. It's a losing battle.