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.
December 2nd – Day 151.
Shit. I wonder when Ivy will have her baby. I'll never know. No one will ever show me a picture or write me a letter about the kid. I won't get to know his name. I'll never be able to tell him I'm sorry for killing his dad. Or will it be a girl? Will she want to know what happened to her dad, or pretend like there's nothing missing in her young life? Damn. I never thought I'd have a family… want a family with Tanya. But when I think about Ivy, I wonder what it'd be like if I grew up and made Tanya Mrs. Lucas Carter. She'd kill me if she knew I was thinking about this.
December 16th – Day 165.
There's no fucking heat in this place. Had I known prison was this cold… I hate that I killed Jason. But I did it. I put the fucking drug in his hands and said "We're cool", and he fucking died. It's my fault. I'm a murderer. I hate my life… myself. God damnit, I lost that comb.
December 24th – Day 173.
Christmas Eve. I miss my fr… I miss everyone more than ever. Shit, it's only been 6 months. Do they still talk to each other? Do they even care? I wonder what they're doing tonight. I wish I could call… God, I have to stop thinking about them. It's killing me. But I found my friendly little blade. I named it Tanya. She stings at first, but it feels better in the end.
December 25th – Day 174.
They give you presents in prison. What the hell that's about, I don't know. I got a pair of socks. My parents sent me a package. A box stuffed with Styrofoam and felt. At the bottom was a letter from Boston University, withdrawing their acceptance. I forgot I was supposed to go… going to college. I would've failed out anyway.
January 5th – Day 185.
I feel sick. There are scars all over my arms. I can't breathe in this place. I just feel sick all the time. I want to get out of this place. I want to die.
January 18th – Day 193.
The guy in the cell next to me is threatening to tell the guards what I've been doing.
"You're killing yourself, kid. You need help." He says.
"We're fine. I don't need your help." I tell him.
"We?" He's weirded out. But I don't want his fucking help. We're fine, Jason and me. We're both a-fucking-okay.
February 21st – Day 221.
They found my silver Tanya. They took her away. I can't bleed the pain away. I'm stuck in this place of fear and agony. When it's nighttime, and all the lights are out, I lie in my bed and look at the cell door, waiting for a miracle. Instead, Jason is standing there. He says he isn't angry. He says it's not my fault. I told him he's wrong, and I close my eyes and try and make him disappear.