July 10

It’s getting harder to write these things. It’s hard not to have these letters feel a little melancholy. Jail is repetitive as fuck. Day in day out same thing. The phone calls and the visits break the monotony but there’s a balance between thinking of things I have to look forward to when I get out and remaining present while I’m here. It gets hard when you think about the outside too much.

I had a great phone call with my mom today. She didn’t know I was in jail until just now (I tried to keep it from her because I didn’t want to upset her) but she’s happy I’m doing well. Which I am. I’m more disciplined in mind, body, and spirit. I’m getting a crash course in responsibility. Despite the general tone of these letters I’m in a good mood, maybe that changed when I’m forced to sit and reflect…