To: Justin Paul Guidry,

November 8, 2009
By , Corpus Christi, TX
Stuck in this box, I feel as you must. Isolated from the world. Held captive behind plexi/bullet proof glass, and huge metal bars, or doors. The world around this box keeps going as if I’m not here. Stuck, as if I don’t exist. Screaming does not help. Nor does reaching out. Much like trying to take a cookie from a jar. Time and time again, hand comes back red as well as empty. No cookie. I yearn to touch the things outside of the blurred glass. I wish to smell the outside world, to feel the chilly air rush around my body. I want… sigh. Its not about what I want anymore. Society revolves around our wrongs and throws us in cages for first offenses. Holds our faults against us even when they are as minor as a pin. Both of us were shoved into our boxes for things beyond our power. For the little things we did wrong. Free spirits forced to be held against they’re will in bodies that are stuck in cages or boxes. I feel your pain. Tiny windows show the moving world. Taunting us. Reminding us of the things we can not have. Yet calming us. Showing us how still the universe can be while helping us to hold on to the hope that one day we’ll be free from isolation. Free to live life. Yet forced to remember that society will find fault in even the smallest of offenses. That being free isn’t as amazing as it sounds. Because on tiny mess up, one small slip and slammed back into captivity we go till society decides we may be released from our quarantined spaces, as if we’re some kind of animal. Like we’re not good enough for the world, even though, we too, are technically, no not technically. Even though we ARE society. Crushing our dreams to nothing all because we made one tiny mistake. How fucked up is that?


……Your best friend always,


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