Author's Note: Where ever there is an ellipses (aka .dot.), there should have been a cross out in his writing. Unfortunately, when I uploaded the files to they didn't go through. Please keep in mind that that is why his writing trails or sounds jumbled up.
September 13th – Day 71.
I'm starting to get into a routine now. Wake up. Eat. Work. Eat. Bed. The food in prison is about the same as at St. Cecilia's. I miss my friends. I miss Tanya.
September 24th – Day 82.
Tanya won't have anything to do with me. I called her and she thought I would've known better than to think I had any chance with her anymore. I don't think… I don't have any friends. I'll leave this cell in 5 years and never see any of them… Matt, Ivy, Peter, Nadia or Tanya ever again.
October 11th – Day 99.
Today I learned how to numb the pain. I don't have any X or GHB or K or even weed anymore. They don't let that shit in here. I never went through withdrawal. I guess that means Tanya was right… wrong. I found a substitute. If you take a comb and scrape it at just the right angle on the bed rail, it becomes sharp as a steak knife. It helps make the rest of the world disappear. It works… For a little while, at least.
October 31st – Day 119.
I can't remember what Tanya's hair smelled like. I can picture her face, but I'm not sure I have the shape of her eyes or the curve of her lips right in my mind. Everything's fading. It's been exactly a… almost a hundred and twenty days since Jason died. It's all my fault. I'm a criminal, a killer. He's dead, and I killed him. It took me a hundred and twenty days to realize this.
November 16th – Day 135.
It's getting colder. The sun is going down earlier. Winter's on its way, and this goddamned prison is freezing. Prisons don't get first dibs on government money. The heat is faulty, the lights are dim, and it's so fucking cold. Even if the prisons got some of that fucking tax money, would they give it to us… me? I'm a cold-hearted killer, right? I deserve the cold… every ounce of ice they pour on my back.
November 30th – Day 149.
I wonder what would happen if I died before my sentence was up. Would my friends… former friends come to my funeral? Would they regret cutting me off? Would Tanya cry, like she did when I was on trial? I don't think… know they wouldn't. They hate me. I killed their brother, their friend, their soul mate, their father…