15 September 2002
I hope classes are going well. Prison is shit. Really, it’s just absolute fucking shit. I’m writing this from solitary. I’ve been here for three fucking days, with FOUR TO GO. I’m losing my goddamned mind. I have a feeling if I talk too much about what it’s like in here or what got me locked up like this they’re gonna redact it or tell me I can’t send it. That’s what happened last time. “Oh, this isn’t your first time in solitary confinement, Nate?” No, Alex, it isn’t! Your idiot boyfriend dumbass ex can’t seem to stop pissing people the fuck off. I swear I’m not even trying. People just don’t like my face. Shocking, I know.
ANYWAY, this fucking sucks. I know I’m cursing a lot but it FUCKING SUCKS. Right now I’m pretending that I’m gonna get released from solitary and find out I’ve got eighteen different letters from you because you finally caved and read what I sent. In this dumbass fantasy, in your last letter you tell me that you’ve got fall break coming up and you’re gonna come visit.
Yeah, I know I’m fucking delusional. Alright, I gotta cut this short. They only let me have the pencil/paper for an hour a day and my time’s almost up.
I love you, Alex. I fucking love you.