Life at the prison has seemed to calm me down a lot; I’m not trying to burn down places anymore. That was a personal low for me, I rationalize it by saying that people do crazy things for love or because of it. I look at her photo every single day as soon as I come into my office. I know every single little detail of it by now and if it weren’t in a frame it would be damaged beyond compare.
I’m starting to get better soon the photo won’t be of lost love but a remembrance of what once was, of course it took a lot of changes for me to feel like this. I haven’t said her name in two months and I don’t allow myself any time to think or dwell. I get in my office look at the picture, pick three files read them threw, make memos, draft up a schedule for the day. Swing by the control room, do my r
