I don't want to be one of them.
Ninety-day sentence. Two-thirds of that is sixty. Take away ten, and he has fifty days. He'll be out July 31st.
Mother cried. Yelled at me, other people. I wish I could tune her out better. I should have brought my music. But it's ok. I realized I've always had an escape: my mind. Violent as it may be sometimes, my imagination is a shield. I never thought of it that way, but it is what it is.
I feel like a child.
Anyway, I'm not going to elaborate about anything. I'm not really sure I want to remember today. With all the tears and anger and unwarranted spite. Today was too much. But today was just another day. It will be over in about four hours.
I just need to be calm and cool. No anger, no rage, no tears. I just wish she would stop being so damn negative and self-righteous..
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