In English, we had to write a letter to a person in jail.
Here’s mine.

’ I’ve hesitated writing to you because I have no clue what to say. I’m going to tell you about me. I am a very confused human being. I’m sure you can relate. I’ll be honest, I was born into a good home. I’m close with my family and we’ve stayed together after all these years. I’ve moved here and there. I’ve made friends and lost them. I’ve lived and learned as much as you can when you’re only seventeen. I’ve never gotten into drugs, despite about three quarters of this town has. I believe the world is far too beautiful to be clouded off with reality altering intoxication. I can be calm and quiet, but also bubbly and loud. I enjoy being on my own, and I’m picky with whom I surround myself with. My name’s Christie and my whole life, I’ve been called Christine, Christina or Christa by strangers who mispronounce my name after a quick glance. So, I took that base and made it into an outside identity. To few, I am the real me. Perhaps, when the weather is nice, I’m realer to more people than usual. But, like I said, I’m picky with people. I believe anyone who isn’t worth my time doesn’t deserve to really see me. And, as hard as it is to be these two people, I’ve realized it has now swallowed and absorbed me. And now, i’m simply an anxiety ridden girl who is quite honestly confused.

Daily, I hear the same old sayings. “Go to school – Do something with your life – Get a good paying job so you’ll be happy!” I guess it comes down to the fact, that while dealing with the confusion of Christie versus Christa, I’m dealing with the confusion of having a future. I don’t plan out my days. I don’t like thinking about any farther ahead than tomorrow or maybe the weekend. I’ve stopped going to school and I haven’t really figured out why. It’s funny because, this once entirely optimistic girl has transformed into this self-excluded social recluse; refusing to wake up in the morning to attend the hell that is high school. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like people make fun of me or anything. I’m simply me. I’m my own person, and if anything, it scares people. I’ve gotten tired of trying to explain myself to kids who won’t get it. So, I keep quiet. I’d rather be at home drawing, writing and dreaming; filling my world with inspiration and art than the strict black and white of going to school.

Some adults understand. I get the speech from teachers about coming to class and doing my work. It’s straight in one ear and out the other. I’m an artistic girl and despite what society believes is right, I’d rather be a happy social recluse without a defined future at seventeen, than an unhappy well payed adult, living a life that was forced on her. It’s funny, because you’re in jail and the life you had has been shut out by concrete walls and bars. I know the feeling. The feeling of almost missing freedom.

I’m not really sure where I was going with this, to be honest. Perhaps, you understand what I’m feeling. Or maybe not. Maybe you are angry that I have this life that appears like I’m throwing it away. But, the thing is, I’m happy. Happily confused, I must admit. But in some twisted way, it almost feels right. ‘

tagged as: jail. confusion. me.