Artwork

Artwork

WRITING EXCHANGE 2006 to 2026

This blog was created to recognize some of the powerful writing being produced by incarcerated youth. Currently, writing is being shared between Shasta and Butte County Juvenile Halls.

2026 Exchanges: January 29, February 26, March 11, April 30

FICTION IS BACK

This month we stepped away from our usual deep self-reflection pieces and focused on fiction. Years ago, the local paper Chico News & Review hosted a contest called Fiction 59, challenging writers to tell a complete story in exactly 59 words. Our Juvenile Hall students often did remarkably well in that contest, and through it I met a talented local writer, Emiliano Sarnoff. Emiliano later volunteered with our Writing Exchange program in Juvenile Hall, and the experience inspired him to return to school to become a teacher. Today, he is my daughter’s English teacher, and together we decided it was time to revive the challenge. This month, students from CORE Butte Charter, Butte County Juvenile Hall, and Shasta County Juvenile Hall wrote stories in exactly 99 words—and the results are amazing. The pieces below come from students in Butte and Shasta County Juvenile Halls, and we will be publishing the winning entries from all three programs soon. -SB __________________________________________________________

Entry #2184
Escaping the Monster
The familiar smell of burning plastic tingles Leslie's nose as Mommy takes her “medicine.” Mommy hops out of the car and stumbles away with some old man who's glaring at her with lust dancing in his eyes. Leslie wiggles her bruised body to the radio, a bird spreading its wings when an ad alerted: “EMERGENCY, EMERGENCY, LION ESCAPED FROM ZOO.” She glances at her paw, fur suddenly covering her battered arm. Leslie realizes this is her chance. Lunging out of the car on all fours, the brave lion tearing through her, towards the sunset and away from the monster.

Entry #2185
Dine & Dash
The hostess seated them both next to the window. Josh said, "I'm so frickin’ hungry.” Rob's stomach was growling. As he slid his shoe, his toe popped out from the bottom. The waiter came to them with the calamari appetizer. Josh's mouth watered as it was delivered. The waiter described the special: steak, mashed potatoes, and bread rolls. Rob held the holes on his hoodie so no one could see. They both agreed to the special. They were so hungry, they started shoveling down, trying not to use their fingers. The check read $190. They knew it was time.

Entry #2186
Earth Child
A young girl was thrown into a small garden. Two tall trees ruled the foliage. Trees meant to bear fruit wielded twists of ivy and whips of thorns; only extreme weather showered the garden. Light rain turns to storms. Defining wind shaped the girl. As she grew, she yearned to leave the garden. The trees learned of her dreams, cracked down with shredding thorns, burning ivy. The damaged girl rebelled. Uprooted grass cut down shrubs. They sent her to the ocean. Trapped in the depths, she confided in the coral. In turn, they took her away so she’d be free.

Entry #2187

World War 3 ½
Dirt slashes Michael's face as explosions went off, so many of Michael’s troops lay dead in front of him. He keeps hearing voices, not knowing if they're out loud or in his head. Limping for cover, bullets in his leg, the Greys are overflowing them. He's out of resources. He rallies the last of the troops, then right when it was about to get interesting,

Teddy hears his mom call him for dinner, “Teddy, come eat, it's your favorite.”

Teddy comes to the table with his little soldiers, “The army is ready to eat.”

“Good, 'cause I made extra for them.”


Entry #2188
He Didn't
Random beach trips. Donuts in stolos. Cops. Going anywhere they desired. Lines. American Eagle shorts and tube tops. Hennessy. That green beam of his that made her feel protected, until it was used to threaten her. Xanax. The fast life. Kenzie loved that life, until everything changed. He changed. Beatings. The arguments that made the house tremble. Betrayal. He turned into the monster in the closet she hid from when younger. Meth. He grew giant and she grew tiny. Destruction. The bottle shattering over her head, blood pooling on the floor. He almost killed her. But he didn’t. Resilience.

Entry #2189
Life Through Glass
Maria watches intently as the two joyful boys dance freely through springing grass, their boyish voices boomed happily through the cracked window that once used to be whole. These are the times the boys will know for certain, as the air turned warm and the eviction notices stopped being posted. Ashamed that these times were shortened. As time went on, Maria saw the boys less, and years passed since she felt the embrace of a motherly hug. She now sits on the other side of a sheet of thicker glass, sadly knowing that the boys will be together forever.

Entry #2190
RUN
No matter how long he runs for, Dave's past seems to linger just behind, awaiting a moment of vulnerability. Silent whispers drift back in his crowded mind, “Just this once!” What’s the worst that could happen? Yet Dave continues to flee from the memory of his mistakes. Several times he contemplated falling into those disgraced mistakes he’d make, coming as close as a thread, despite his hatred & fear caused by his decisions. One morning, as he awoke, he felt too spent to run, & instead he stopped to face his past, embracing his pain & finally forgave himself.

Entry #2191
Change
I sit & wait for change to come upon me. I go over in my mind the most despised parts of myself, wondering when and how this change will come. Will it be a person? An object? A situation? I yearn for the change I so desperately need. As time goes on, my confidence begins to fade, and I start to lose hope that this change will ever show. I contemplated my options & struggled to choose. So, with a final push of hope, I moved myself & stepped out of that room, & I found the change myself.

Entry #2192
Friday the 13th
On Tuesday the 10th, Leonard thought for a moment that his dog, Theo, said something. Part growl, part bark, it sounded like he asked for a treat. GRRRDOGGGTRRREATT. Other strange things happened too: By Wednesday, Theo figured out how to open doors, even the fridge. One time he lifted his leg and tried to pee in the toilet, only missing a bit. Then, on Thursday, he turned on the hot water, and Leonard found him standing in the shower. Friday was frightening as fragile glass shattered in the kitchen. Leonard walked in, and Theo clearly said, “Dude, I’m hungry!”


Entry #2193
Running Thoughts
Sitting handcuffed, Jake was told he’d be out in 2-weeks. Mind racing with the freedom of what was going to be. Instinctively planning his next lick, the pounds he would come up on. He wondered two things: if his pole was still where he stashed it, the slit in the mattress on the wall side, and if the stolo was still in the back alleyway by the avenue. Calling up his boy Ricordo, talking in code. On his date, his PO walked in, monitor in hand. Jake's head fell, eyes to the floor, not as free as he thought.

Entry #2194
Unprejudiced
I am a very freespoken kind of guy. I use big words in my life. Why doesn’t anyone use words? I am very loquacious, magnanimous, and sanguine. However, I am also obstreperous, idiosyncratic, capricious, but also very discerning. I’m also a cacophony. I am perceptive, peaky, and persistent. I am precocious, erudite, and indecisive. I love my girlfriend. I am very commiserative, but I can also be sympathetic. I feel a lot of tragedy, privation, and loneliness. I’m also disconsolate. However, my life is very slow and fast at the same time. My mind is ADHD, 100 mph.

Entry #2195
Clouded Thoughts of Family Matters
Jared had a thousand voices in his head. He never could quiet them. They would roar for hours with no end in sight, and sleepless nights gave him no avail. He was always fighting with his parents. Insomnia created a fog in his days. During an argument with his parent—his father attacked him, slamming him into walls, shoving him, pushing him so hard he flew through the air. Unaware if he was awake, sleeping, or even conscious, he retaliated, grabbing something metal and smashing it against his father’s head. Or did he? He wondered if he was really incarcerated?

Entry #2196
Shadow At Dawn
Kylie arrived at Shadow Falls. She had one burning question, “What am I?” But giving Kylie the most trouble is her aching heart. Her gorgeous werewolf, Lucas, left the camp with another girl, but he’s still visiting her in her dreams. Derek, a sexy half-fae who’s always been there for her when she needed him, is pushing to get more serious and growing impatient. Especially when Lucas returns, Kylie knows she needs to decide between the boys, and it’s tearing her up inside. Yet, romance will have to wait because something from the Dark Side of her world is hiding.


Entry #2197
A Moment in Abyss
Blinding lights. Loud thumping music. Rowdy crowd jumping and screaming my name. I've been dreaming about this moment since I was a kid, fame. I stare off into the crowd, and start to remember what it took to get me here. Pushing through the hardships: poverty, drugs, people who wanted to see me fail. I came from nothing. Section-eight housing, no food, drugs flooded the house. As I close my eyes, I’m overcome with euphoria. I eagerly jump into the crowd only to find myself in the same trapped-out drug house. I can't dream big when I feel small.

Entry #2198
The Fall
Jack was climbing the tree: no shirt, nothing, just a waterbottle, sunglasses, boots, and shorts. As he kept climbing, the branches got smaller. Real small. He had scrapes up and down. 120 feet up, he stumbled, the branch snapping was like a gunshot, and gravity took over like a magnet to the earth. The fall brought some regrets. The time he gave up his kids for the white lines. Or, the time he stabbed his dad in the back. The ground approached, he wanted to make things right. Closer and closer. He started floating up. “Please forgive me.”

Entry #2199
The Dog and the Fish (Ohio Edition)
The dog woke up one morning and started meowing, so I took him for a swim, and he met the fish. He then befriended the fish, and they continued on a mewing streak together. Soon enough, the fish grew old and became Sigma. The dog was now getting jealous and wanted to steal the fish’s gyatt. The fish was also the master of rizz, so this would be hard. So, the dog challenged the fish to a rizzing challenge in Ohio, and he won. The sad fish went along his way. Then, the dog realized he had no friend.

Entry #2200
The Last Attempt
Sam couldn’t resist the dare to run through the train tunnel. On his way to school each day, he would try to build the courage to run through the other end before he arrived. Today was different. Today would be remembered. Ignoring all signs of danger like they didn’t exist, Sam was like a cheetah. Making it halfway through before a loud roar echoed across the hollow hole of tracks. A bright light then appeared, but he ran faster than he ever had before. Realizing he was looking down at himself, Sam was slowly drifting into the dark sky.


Entry #2201
White Roses
He was a drawing man. School felt like Hell, and drawing, heaven. He chose heaven over hell. Heaven caused the day to go quick. Hell was everything else. His girl was on the other side of heaven. He sends her these drawings, hoping she keeps them. “Wherever is fine,” he says. He just wants to make sure she has them. She likes crown, not just the alcohol, switch that, the alcohol too. She’s a queen. He says, “She’s my queen.” He sent more heaven her way on Valentine’s Day. “Flowers like white roses are common here,” he says. Heaven is for real.

Entry #2202
Family Cookout
Hearing her loud cousins and the drunk adults laugh and yell, Deliliah smelled the seafood wafting through the air. It was so much better than the rancid beer on her uncle's breath and vodka on her aunts. Listening to the cracking of a crab shell and the satisfying sizzle of tri-tip on the grill. She spotted her mom aggressively stomping towards her and her cousin. Hiding behind the wood stack, secretly eating crab after being cut off. “You have to save some for the family!” Giggling and running, Delilah’s mom was now laughing too: “I’m gonna get you guys!”

Entry #2203
Raul’s End To A Start
Throughout elementary, he was the class clown, the bully, and didn’t listen. Raul drowned himself with trouble. In 5th and 6th grade he didn’t do school. In middle, he killed brain cells, focusing on blunts and trees, rolling up. When he got into high school, everyone told him he needed to focus; he didn’t care. His first two years of high school, his sister did his homework. After the robbery, Raul got some years. Years to think. He realized this wasn’t the end but a start. He started to focus, he sharpened his pencil, and opened up a textbook.

Entry #2204
The Apple in the Tree
A big, red apple grew in a huge tree, the highest branch, waiting to be picked by just the right person; but what the apple didn’t know was it couldn't be reached. It grew ripe and big, looking out into the rest of the scary woods. The apple didn’t have much time to be picked. The apple slowly began to get mushy and rot from the inside out until it fell straight to the ground and sat there decomposing, with ants crawling all over.

Entry #2205
Plan
Ryder became a new father on the same night as his father’s crash. Baby Willow helped him change his old ways. Instead of smoking and drinking from an endless bottle, he began giving a bottle. Instead of partying all night, Ryder would watch the baby all night. He stopped selling, landing a construction gig. Honest money instead of hustle. He wanted his daughter to follow a good path, to grow up with both parents, and have a nice home where she could feel comfort. He provided opportunities he never had. Wanting the best for her, Ryder became a dad.

Entry #2206
Boy
He was a boy who didn’t understand the world. Even though he tried, no one wanted to give him an answer, just say, “You’ll learn one day, kiddo.” He hated adults, especially his “own” adults. Having enough, he bolted far away from his monsters called parents. Eventually, he stopped running and sat dangling his legs off a log while his heart raced. He sat up, looking around, and realized he wasn’t close to home. Actually, he didn’t know where he was. He made his own home, forgetting the world around him. Now, he’s happy, forever a lost boy.

Entry #2207
Military
Inside Juvie, walls are like an aching pain. You are told when to eat, sleep, shower, move. It's hard to be on the same track as people on the outs. In here, we move with caution. Me and my brothers are always focused. We know everyone's move before they do. We can see snakes at play. We move like the military, ready for war, but ready for peace. They labeled us as a gang but were really just a family who would kill for one another. I love ‘em all equal; I know we would all protect one another.

Entry #2208
Racing in the Wind
The needle crept past 100, trembling slightly, matching the adrenaline spiking in my veins. Midnight on the empty highway felt like flying. Engine screaming, white lines blurring into a neon streak of light, the world reduced to a tunnel of asphalt ahead. My knuckles gripping the leather wheel, I felt alive, completely detached from the quiet, boring life I left behind. No phone calls, no responsibilities, just pure, electric speed. The wind roared, mocking the speed limit sign I passed hours ago. It was dangerous, reckless, selfish even, but for this fleeting moment, I was fast. I was free.


Entry #2209
The Road to “Reality”
Fear seeked me through no rear near. I’m adventuring through the mind-compelling woods late night. Vision revolves around the daylight, unknown in shadows. Once upon a time, there creeps a ghost within a tunnel-like alley approaching a mysterious road. I’m met with footsteps, loud banging, cleaning, ringing, but littleness amuses within this dark forest. As I near the alley, escaping the fierce thrill. A marathon exiting trail back, quarter-mile to safety. I detect the destination. I want it to disappear. A cold breeze of a touch skims over me. I begin running, I trip, I fall over…

Entry #2210
Crash
Well, this story starts one yelling Sunday night at a Valero gas station. We were there buying Tw-eas. We had been arguing all day, so we went to get a drink to chill out, but the opposite happened. She was a savage. She bit me after I told her I slept with her friend. So, I told her I was going to steal her car. She didn’t believe me, so I grabbed her keys and took off until her dad was following me, and I sped up to a corner. I turned the wheels, but the car didn’t follow.

Entry #2211
The Exit
His rat tail was braided tight and his left hand showed the ink he represented. Carlos had been fighting his case for four years. Gigi didn’t like who he was hanging out with, always running the streets, on substances, and involved in crimes. His mind was racing: Gigi’s disappointment, the example he was giving his little brother, Mario, and the fact that he had been lying. In court, realizing that the truth could be his exit ticket out of the life he was living, Carlos stood up, releasing weight. “I did it. It was my gun.” Carlos had changed.

Entry #2212
George Escaping the Zoo
George was a tall giraffe. He lived in a zoo way out in the middle of nowhere. One day, he was eating, and he noticed a hole in the fence. He stuck his head over the fence and saw a big red exit sign. He felt curious and started walking slowly towards the hole. He got there and stared for a while. Eventually, he started walking slowly through the hole. He made it through and started running toward the exit sign. Once he made it, he ran through the parking lot and grass. He looked back and realized he was free.


Entry #2213
Boom, Boom, Boom
Boom, boom, boom, boom! Crash! Get down! I peek my tiny little head down the hall to the living room. Mom and Dad are on the ground. They look like pretzels. I rushed to my sister with pools in my eyes as she pulls me into a bear hug, telling me repeatedly, “It’s going to be okay.” The cops come into the room, ripping us apart like Velcro, and throwing me in a car, and jetted me to town—a lady who smelled like flowers bombarded me with questions like, “How was life at home?” I just wanted my sister.

Entry #2214
The Talking Carrot
One day, a carrot started growing in the garden, and no one knew who planted it. Jorge asked his parents if he could go play outside. His parents said yes, so he went outside to the garden and started playing. He ran around for a while, then noticed the carrot. He pulled it out of the ground, but only half came out. He picked up the carrot and ran back inside. He showed his parents, then set it down. The carrot started talking. Jorge screamed and ran back to the garden to put the carrot back with the other vegetables.

Entry #2215
Quarter Man
Billy realized that he swallowed a quarter, but he didn't freak out. He thought to himself that it didn't taste too bad at all, so then he started trying pennies, dimes, nickels; but they didn’t taste the same as the quarters, so he began to make quarter sandwiches, quarter pizza, quarter brownies—everything had to have quarters on it. There was a problem, though: he started getting stomach issues. He knew better, he just couldn't stop eating quarters! He knew it was bad for him, but he couldn’t resist it. Sadly, he passed away; but not without his quarters.

Entry #2216
Misery Loves Company
I woke from a sound sleep, drenched in sweat. The nightmares just wouldn’t stop. This time, it was back. It would haunt me until the end of my time. It’s the reason I am the way I am. The reason I was incarcerated for so long. I was filled with such rage, a rage that couldn’t be stopped until I felt that the atrocity was hurting me, my family, and people I loved. It took me a long time before I was able to face my fears and my misery. But you know what they say: misery loves company.

Entry #2217
The Kid That Became Cool
Once upon a time, there was a kid that would get bullied in school. He wanted to become a cool kid in school, and he wanted to be noticed in school by all of the cool kids. So what he did was, his parents said they were going out of town. So, the kid had a light bulb idea. He went around school telling everyone that he was hosting a Halloween party at his house. Everyone wanted to go. Everyone actually showed up, and after that, the kid that always got bullied at school became a cool kid, finally.

Entry #2218
Locked Down
Stuck in a room full of bricks. You only have a pillow, blanket, sheets, and a mattress. You wake up every day, same time. Sitting in the day room with nothing to do. The TV’s on, but you don’t watch. Your P.O. asks what you learned, but you tell them you made no progress. They tell you that you only seek attention. And all you think of is redrum, redrum, redrum. And you want out to go home, but you’re locked down. You don’t have anything. You’re lonely, lost, and burned out. But it’s really not like that, ever.

Entry #2219
She Loves Him Because
She loves him because of the way his eyes light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She loves him because his tongue twists and melts words like a chocolate factory at work. She loves him because his soul fills hers like a buffet to a small, spoiled child. She loves him because his body knows every bump and imperfection she has. She loves him because her heart feels safe with him. She loves him because of his childlike smile when excited or happy. She really loves him, loves, because it’s him, and no one compares.


Entry #2220
Doobies Tales
Doobie caught a case in the first degree. He was cold-hearted. Nobody could tell him nun, and when they tried, he just said they were playa hatin’. Doobie’s time in the Pitna was extraordinary. He watched people get pulled up for looking at someone the wrong way, but that was just the life for him. Doobie cherished everything about the system. Doobie woke up one Friday evening craving violence. He grabbed his shank, crept up on Big Mike, and started poking. Blood splattered everywhere, all over the entire Pod, but that was just another day for Doobie.

Entry #2221
He Is Trying to Describe Pain in 99 Words
What’s 100 minus 1? 99. 99 ways my heart was broken. I have been in pain 99 times, 99 times. My heart is of granite, yet of dust as well. Pain has many names: hurt, hate, desolation, sadness, depression, anxiety, and envy. Relief has many names, though, too: sobriety, pills, drugs, gangs, and affirmations. Too bad they don’t work for me. Unfortunately for me, pain is destiny; it’s all I have most days. It’s my trench, my weapon, my strength, and sometimes it’s my family. If I am surrounded by pain, then I will become the epitome of the pain.

Entry #2222
Sparks
My dog Spark ran from my house, and I’ve got to find him, so I’ve packed up a bag with a drink, some food, and some protection, just in case I ran into an opp. So, I’m walking down the street, yelling out, “Spark!,” and I don’t hear or see him; that’s when I pull my food out and start eating my sandwich and drinking my Red Bull. Somebody drove down the street. I think, “It’s an opp,” so that’s when I whip out my slingshot and start blowing at the opps because they started blowing at me too—then I dipped.

 

Entry #2163

Better Times                                                

The countdown echoes off the cinder block, A hollow sound where midnight meets my tray. Beyond these bars, the world uncurls, while here, the shadows settle in to stay.

 

I leave behind my ghostly past — The reckless pulse, they say was bad. The boy who thought the fire was a friend, Before the embers drowned beneath his hand.

 

I leave the names of streets that knew my feet, The summer air that taste of heat, The faces of the ones I didn’t mean to hurt, back when I thought my life was cursed.

 

But as the calendar turns over cold, I shed the skin of who I use to know. I leave the "whys" and "ifs" within, to make some room for something thin.

 

For though the gate is locked, the mind is wide, and pen on paper carves something high. The sentence is for life, the judge has said— But how I live it remains unsaid.

 

Entry #2164

Still Standing

I am from zombies, overdoses, and drug addicts
From pom poms and halftime shows
From a house filled with arguments that rattle walls

 

I am from Barbies and princesses
From fighting and anger
From depression and pain

 

I am from my older sister doing my hair
From watching physical abuse
I am from giggles with my cousin when we should be asleep

 

I am from a **** up father that doesn’t know how to treat his daughter
From trips to the corner market
From attachment issues
From the endless love of my mama

 

I am from skipping class, broken bottles, and alcoholics
I am from hidden tears on my blanket
From my father choking me
From rape

 

I am from an eating disorder
From changing my life

 

This is where I am from

 

Entry #2165

Stuck

Before, I was homeless, sleeping on the ground. On park benches. Sometimes I never slept. I would walk the streets alone, looking for whatever I could. I stole. Lied. Cheated. Did drugs like meth. I thought this life was fun until I couldn’t breathe or even walk ten feet without coughing my lungs up and collapsing to the ground.

I thought it was fun and cool until I was alone and cold and numb. I had nothing. I was dying with meth in my lungs and holes in my arms. I had no one. The people around me left me for dead.

But after, I could feel emotions. Think clearly. Start to realize what I’ve done and what I’ve been through. I realized there’s no going back. I realized there’s no fixing what has already been done. I feel nothing but guilt and remorse. The stuff I’ve done to myself is unbelievable.

But for some reason, I have this desire to go back to “before” and use again, knowing it will kill me. For whatever reason, I just don’t care. I will do anything to get out and do the same **** as before. I sometimes think there’s something really wrong with me—and there is. I have an incurable disease. I’m stuck in addiction, with no desire to quit.

                  


                                 

Entry #2166

Home

When I was younger, I was always in a bad mindset. Some type of dark would take over my light… and just like that, I’m blind—scared I’d let the dark cover me like a blanket my daddy would tuck me in with at night.

I’d yell and cry from my bed saying, “I want to go home,” or better yet, “I just want to be dead.” I would cry for home until my throat was raw, lungs filled with air, parts of me burning from touches too young to feel. Daddy asked what I meant—“This is your home.” He was my home.

I never understood it because he was right—he was all I had until mommy dearest came rolling in on some cloud. I thought I was saved until I saw the smoke, thick and sticky. The dragon she caught was never tamed. It controlled her, took over her brain. It was the one to blame for my scars and broken heart.

One day, I caught myself screaming again, “I wanna go home.” While the dragon was in control, she grabbed me by my hair and said, “I am your home, little girl.” Little girl I was—afraid, with a small voice, scratchy and raw—I stopped screaming for home. I lost my sense, confused, never understanding why I wanted home.

That is where I laid until I met him. I found my peace, stopped asking for home, and once I realized why I never let go, I knew who he was. Forever my home.

Entry #2167

I Used to Call You Dad

Did it make you feel good knowing you had an eleven-year-old girl screaming and crying underneath you? You stripped me bare of my happiness. Did it make you happy knowing I would keep it a secret because I wanted you to love me?

You’re the reason I turned to substances. I got my alcohol addiction from you. Did you ever feel guilty? Did you know I admired you—until you did that—even though you would beat me?

I still have nightmares about that night. Why can’t you leave me alone? I get attached to anyone who shows me even a little love.

Can you believe I used to call you dad?

 

Entry #2168

Forever Missed

Cupid’s tears drown me in his sorrow as I mourn the loss of the children around me. The sound of sirens fill my ears until the angels’ weeping competes with the sound of death. Blood splatters around my feet as I fall to my knees, begging the sky that the first person here saves them.

The click of the guns replay over and over until I’m frozen in fear, like a glacier in the Arctic. I feel paralyzed as the screams and shouts of people push me to my feet. Walking feels forced, my legs like jello as I run for help.

The stretchers take the kids who were once so full of life and glowing smiles, now frozen in time as their innocence has been stripped from their minds, as well as from the others around them. An action that took one second to achieve has now taken a future away—like a hunter and a fawn, shivering in the dark, quiet, tall grass.

The grief turns to an uncontrollable rage as I talk to the ugly officer, questioning everyone. The world feels like it’s come to a halt as I scream for the one with the rotten teeth to do something—it’s too late now. The line is flat. I’m filled with fury as they haul away the boy who just wanted to feel loved in the back of an ambulance. His beautiful soul, forever 16 now.


I’ll miss you.
Long Live Romann, 2008–2025

Entry #2169

Growing Up

Growing up, I’d hide around the corner in secret, watching my parents chase this invisible dragon—catch it, tame it, then devour it whole. I swore up and down I’d never tame a monster of my own… until the demons crept up on me and swallowed my soul.

I started to find comfort in the rush, loving it more than human affection, spreading from my brain to my heart like a disease or an infection. As I lost all control, I sat on my bed waiting for death and thought to myself, You’re better than this. What happened?

I slept, and my monster died of hunger—the drugs wore off. The voices were clear. If I don’t stop, the end is truly near. It took me a while, but I found the difference between love and lust. What I felt for that pretty snow was a curse of lust, when all I really craved was someone’s touch.

Of course I miss my monster. We all grow comfortable with vices that kill us while turning a blind eye. Except I am no longer blind. I can see how my monster treated me, because now I’m set free—learning real love, not just the love my parents showed from the flame creeping out of their dragon’s throat.

Entry #2170

A Little Bit Human

Dear Self,

I wish you would understand the pain I’ve endured over the years. I made a lot of mistakes, but it’s okay—we all have mishaps in this world. We’re not perfect. The pain I’ve had to deal with can’t be measured, and I don’t always know why. The problems I’ve faced didn’t involve kind people; they involved hurt—people who wanted to take me down, people who expected so much from me, mostly effort. I still don’t fully understand this other person inside of me, but I’m guessing he wants change. A real change in my life.

A change where I put my old life behind me and start fresh. Where I look forward to a new path, a new open door, and a better life for myself—at least one where I can do better. The mistakes I’ve made over the years don’t define who I am, and this year I’m going to try my best to do whatever it takes to get my life back on track. I’m going to continue to write—write whatever my heart desires—because people who hate don’t see why I’m always mad. Is it my fault? Am I my worst enemy? The one who made bad decisions and ended up incarcerated?

Am I insane? Am I a bad person for making mistakes, or am I just a little bit human? I still don’t know. Why was I in that state of mind? Why did I make all those choices? I want to apologize—to the people I’ve hurt, to society, to my family, and also to myself. I mean, come on now.

My life was hard—really hard—but I don’t deserve to live in this so-called hell we’ve found ourselves in. I’ve learned how to adapt to situations and cope with my feelings, but sometimes I still ask myself: what do they want from me? Please tell me I’m okay. I need help. Someone please save me from hurting myself more than I already have. Someone please see the bigger picture.

My whole life I’ve been harassed, and I don’t really feel safe. Even being locked up, I feel like I’ve damaged myself to the point where I can’t fix what’s broken—and sometimes I don’t think anyone else can either. But I can try to make the best of every day, and I can hope for the best. Even if I do get out in February, I don’t know where to go. I might move to another city. I might go to another school. I might get a job and a one-bedroom apartment. I’m still thinking.

My New Year’s resolution is to try to graduate a year early and get a job that I actually want. I hope I can better myself this year. I’m tired of beating myself up for my mistakes and for hurting the people I love most, especially my family. I don’t know where I want to be in five years, but at least now I’m thinking about it—something I never really did on the outs.

I’m tired of not giving myself credit. I know my life will be better if I continue to think before I react. I feel bad for the mistakes I’ve made, but I have to keep my head up and keep doing better. If I want people to trust me again, I have to make major changes. I hope I can continue to get the help I truly need. I’m tired of getting messed with, and I don’t see the point in messing with others just for fun. It hurts to see people suffering in this world. I just hope I can make a major change in my life.


Entry #2171

Looking Back, Moving Forward

Before, after—I took a step back and looked at life from a different perspective, and I realized a lot. Life is not all about smoking, drinking, and running around with your boys. Sometimes you gotta look for more for yourself than just keep running down that path. Sometimes I wish I could have a redo of my days, or even years—but you can’t, as y’all know. I wonder what life would be like if I never took that first hit, never sipped that first bottle, never clutched that first weapon. This life is tricky—always looking over your back on your way home, or even just to get a soda from the corner store. I used to think I could never get out of this life. Sometimes I still feel that way. I just want to see 21. I want to see my family proud of me instead of watching them cry in court or during visits. The weight of seeing those tears drop makes me sick. Or hearing on the phone, “I just want you home—it’s been so hard,” and knowing you can’t go home and be there for them. Then there’s hearing how much my friends—who aren’t in this life—miss me. How they wish I was still the old me. Shout out to the ones who stuck by my side. That’s what keeps me pushing. I just hope I can make y’all happy and proud—your grandson, nephew, homie, cousin. You’re my everything. Y’all know who you are. So my plan for after I get out is to show y’all I can do it. I pray deep down He gives me the courage. I love my people and I want to be there for y’all, so I’m going to start trying more.

Watch me change
Watch me win
Watch my favorite people smile again
Watch me graduate high school
Watch me get my dream job
Watch me succeed

I will do it.

Entry #2172

Still Showing Up

I write this from a place in my mind that feels more cell-like than any bricks that have ever confined me. After my release, I did a lot for myself. I felt like I did everything right too. I never broke curfew, I showed up to all my court dates and probationary meetings, I got off ankle really fast, and was off probation in no time.

 

But I still found myself in the same places doing the same ****, hanging around the same people that got me locked up in the first place. And I hid it all. From every adult and every voice of reason, I hid it. I knew that wasn’t where I wanted to be, but it was so easy to fall right back in that groove, even with all the right people and all the love and support I had. I was struggling so badly with my mental health, and I made that my excuse.

 

I turned it around though, because I saw where all my friends were going and I knew where I wanted to be. And I didn’t want to go back to a cell in a pod full of traumatized, angry kids. I won't lie though, my boyfriend was a big part of it too. He wanted good things for me, and I wanted to be good for him, so I made it happen. Even now, I recognize that he was my real voice of reason. He wasn't just my boyfriend, he was my best friend; someone I knew I wanted in my life forever regardless of the circumstance. Having someone who loved me on a different level, and that also wanted me to do good, helped more than anything.

 

I got sober again. Like real sober, not California sober. Not even a lil’ drink here and there or a puff bar. That was a hard choice for me, but I knew I had to stop everything altogether. I stopped talking to all the people I used to hang out with who didn't want the same things in life I did. I deleted Instagram and focused on me and my boyfriend. I graduated, and I got my first job. Not under the table, not plugin, a real job. I tried new things and put myself into new spaces. I pushed my comfort zone to grow. I asked for help even when I really, really didn’t want to. I even started taking medication for my mental health. And as much as I hate to admit it, it helped.

 

I went through so much, but everything I built for myself kept me going. And life 180’d again for me, but far worse than I ever could have imagined. I lost a lot of people I loved. I had to part ways with my boyfriend, which was unimaginably hard. I had an unhealthy attachment to him. And even though he wanted good things for me, he stopped wanting good things for himself, and he started treating me in ways I did not deserve. That was so hard for me because he wasn't just my boyfriend, he was my best friend, my biggest support, my motivation to keep going even when I felt like I couldn't. And I never let go of that, even with the distance. We still talked a lot. We both knew we needed time apart to be better for each other.

 

I was going through a lot. I started smoking and drinking a bit, but ended up quitting again. I really struggled to find connections that were good for me. I still do, even now.

 

Then my psychiatrist doubled my medication, and I had a reaction no one could have prepared me for. One panic attack turned into something so much worse. I had to stop working and driving. I couldn't go to the classes I busted my **** to make possible for myself. In just a few days, I watched myself turn into a different person entirely. I felt like a passenger in my own body, like I didn't even have myself anymore. I really felt like I ruined myself, and I still feel like that a lot. Things got better though, and I was making steady progress toward going back to doing all of the things I love. I was just starting to see that light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Then I woke up and I got that call. My best friend died. More than just my best friend actually, even with the distance between us. Grieving him is strange. Grief in general is. I've lost a lot of people in my short little lifetime, but this is a whole different type of hurt. I never thought my mental health could affect my physical health so much. I regret a lot of things, and there's a lot I would change. But I wouldn't change him. I mostly just wish that I had more gratitude for the good parts. Even when it was hard and I felt every which way but grateful, I really should have been more grateful. Because it can get worse.

Right now, I'm trying to remind myself to cherish the time I do get to share with the people I love, and to just have more gratitude even when it's really hard. But I think my biggest takeaway is that I really only have myself, so I gotta keep showing up for myself. Because that's what he would have wanted.

 

Entry #2173

Before / After

I used to be the “quiet kid,”
the one who always hid.
I would always keep to myself—
but I would take the drugs off the shelf.

Now, when I’m stuck in my cell,
the only thing I can think about
is if I’m going to hell.
Now I just tuck away behind this shell.

Entry #2174

Air

Suddenly, there are moments that come up and leave me drained of the air that fills my lungs. Sitting inside, so close to air yet so far from that gasp to make me feel okay. Air—what feels like that adventurous uplift that pulls you out of bed in the mornings. All of a sudden, all that makes motivation is a new air called “weed.”

I used to want to go to school. I used to want to get up for work… now, before that one puff to make all thoughts go away, I feel bodyless, numb to reality, as if nothing will change, reality standing still. Of course I have to get up, but what happens when that high wears off? Body back to that numb feeling, thoughts spinning, and reality shifting.

I used to think my life was bound for nothing. For example, a wave crashing into the beach just to flow away or disappear… fire burning, what’s left igniting every time I get out of bed. Truth is, it took one thing to change everything in my perspective to faith: incarceration. Getting pulled out of the environment that I had lived in for years was the rollercoaster feeling that changed my perception of my life.

In the blank reality, I enjoyed becoming my very temptation that I feared. I began to have no weed, alcohol, or those drugs I would abuse.

“What changed?” I thought to myself. Matters that had never been in my sights before—the very opportunities I would deny outside these cinderblock walls—changed who I was. A part of me became alive again… I wanted life. I had goals and dreams I had forgotten. I never would’ve thought love, care, humanity, and respect mattered so much—but that’s what was wrong, what was missing in my life. I wanted to live for myself again.

In the end, I will not smoke weed again, because suddenly air became the breath of steps that I would take to change my life again. What I, myself, thought I gained by weed, I now have gained in clarity—in my head and in my chest. I had love to give that I once didn’t.

Entry #2175

Becoming a Father

Before, I was stressed about how my life was going to turn out. I was constantly told I was going to do serious time. While I was in here, I found out I was going to be a father, and every day I thought about how badly I had messed up. I fought my case for months, and when I finally got sentenced, they wanted to give me four years.

My lawyer pushed through and got me a deal I didn’t think was possible. I got away with doing less time than I deserved, and now I’ll be home to help raise my baby while they’re still young. When I get out, I’m going to do it right.

I know I’m lucky. I thank God for answering my prayers. I made mistakes I can’t change, but I can move forward—and this time, I’ll make better choices.

Entry #2176

My Life

My life was what I would say extravagant. It was fun, exciting, and unpredictable. I was partying, running amok, doing the average teenage things. I was living young, wild, and free. That was the happiest time in my life, but everything changed within a day—I got locked up.

Now I am getting told when I go to sleep and eat. I have absolutely no freedom. Even after several months locked down, I still have no release date. Having no release date affects me the most, knowing I could be in here a year or more. Without a release date, every day feels like a loop. The only thing that sets each day apart is different types of meals.

I always regret the decisions I made in the outside world, wishing I could go back and change my actions. Sometimes I imagine my future sitting in a prison cell because they’re trying to charge me as an adult. Before, I saw myself as a tattoo artist. But each and every day I lose hope as my court date approaches. Being gone for so long with barely any court dates makes me feel like I am never getting out—or that being locked up for a long time is inevitable and nothing good will come my way. So I just feel like I’m going to fail no matter what.


Entry #2177

As the New Year Begins

When I get out, I want to change my life around and get off probation, as well as get a job and make money. As I get my life together, I want to buy my mom a house and a car. All I want to do in life is show people I can be a better person and show my mom that I can be successful.

Someday, one job I’d like to do is construction and building houses. I hope to build my own house and buy my own car, but that is not my goal for this year. My main goal is to get off probation and show other people that I can be a way better person.

I want to set an example for my little cousins, that they can do anything in life that they put their mind to, just like me. My mindset this year is to do good. I also want to show my dad that he taught me to be a better man.

One more goal I have this year is to get out, build my own car, get my driver’s license, and drive down to my cousin’s house to show them they can accomplish anything. I’m here—28 more days to go—and I am hoping I get out. When I do, I am going to stay out of trouble and away from weed. I am going to get my life together, and that is my main goal this year.

Entry #2178

A Restart

I want to do better—for myself, my sister, and my mom. I want to get back into sports and focus on my academics so I can improve in school. I want to go somewhere with my life. One thing I’m really interested in is becoming a welder. I like the idea of working with my hands, doing cool projects, and creating something new.

I’ve been arrested three or four times before, but I was released each time—except for the last two. This time, I’ll be here for a while. I’m hoping to fight one of my four charges and get it dropped, but that means staying longer to make it happen.

There are good and bad things about being here. In some ways, it feels like a restart. I’ve been able to step back and really think about what I want to change in my life. I’m back in school and working on catching up on credits. At the same time, I miss being out—seeing my little sister and hanging out with my friends.

I know I put myself here, so now I have to do the time. What matters is what I do with it.


Entry #2179

This Year

This year
Forget about the pain
Forget about the shame
Forget about the fame
Forget about the rain

Remember the trees
Remember the bees
Remember the peace
Remember when you were free

Now that’s the new me
The one who opened his eyes to see—
the one with all of the creativity
who can oversee all of his dreams

Entry #2180

The Land

Native Americans were treated differently—they said we were savages, all we did was hurt people, but really, we were all hurt. People from somewhere else took over our crops and land. That’s probably why we had to kill a lot of men. They gave us diseases, tried to wipe us all out, but we’re survivors still running around.

This is for everyone that has Native running in their blood. We might have come from the mud, but one day we will all be very rich. The police treat me like an animal because of my race. I hope my family lives forever—yes, I pray. I rock with the ones I love and they labeled us a “gang”—to be honest, that **** is very strange.

They can call me a ******* ******; it does not hurt my soul. I’m a young Native and my name is anonymous. I will never leave this place because it is my home.

Entry #2181

Gang Life

A change I want to make in my life is getting out of politics. It was cool and ****, but some people don’t care. You can get shot for throwing up the wrong gang sign. But I’m not tweaking on that—I’ll throw up ***** until I die.

But I gotta think about how it affects the people around me, like my girlfriend, mom, brothers, and family. I don’t want them to get shot or hurt in any way, and some people go after your family if they can’t find you.


Entry #2182

Dear Me

It’s finally your year. Big 18. People say it’s just another day, but isn’t it the day you start to take full responsibility for your actions? And isn’t it the day you become the one thing you hate the most… an adult?

Now you’re noticing everything you’ve learned or been through that prepared you for this stage in your life. You start to realize that adults really did care about you and wanted you to go somewhere in life. Because now, you’re on your own—an adult. For some of us, that means no help.

But now it’s your turn to become a young, independent, and smart person. At the end of the day, you’ll realize you’re not always going to feel like an adult, but you are. And when push comes to shove, you better act like one. If not, it’s jail time, and you’re going to be labeled a failure.

I don’t know how to feel. All I know is I wish there was a rule book for this adult ****.

Entry #2183

Cutting the Strings

Everyone has an agenda. So why obey and listen to what they have to say? Being older and an adult doesn’t mean someone is right. Having your name in a fancy font on a piece of paper really just means, hey, this guy is good at obeying directives. Is that really the goal? Hey, if you want to fall into line, work until you’re 60–80, retire, and then “enjoy” the last decade of your life, by all means, go for it. While you’re bedbound with your 401K, there will be a 60–80-year-old who created generational wealth. You might say, “Oh, good for that person, it must have been luck.” If working a 9–5 for the rest of your life defines success for you, then by all means, believe that. Hey, as a matter of fact, come work for me. You’re clearly a good listener—nice little ant. You’ll get $15 an hour, I’ll get my use out of you. So what are we going to do about it? Are we just going to move on, forget about it, and go back to being good listeners? We’re all puppets. Do we cut the strings, or continue being controlled?