Journal entry-october 27
The following is a journal entry from my first time being locked up. This is in fact my very first journal entry from that period, it took me almost a month to gather enough paper to start journaling. I don't know if anyone would find this interesting but I'm hoping so. Its mostly unedited, I just redacted a name cause I don't like thinking about that person anymore. If I keep posting these you'll probably see the downfall of that relationship (here's a spoiler: I got cheated on then he moved in with the new guy and broke up with me soon after I was locked up, real fun stuff.). Anyway, here it is, the start of the end of Josh Crews.
October 27, 2022
25 days of lockup today. Feels like months. My next court date is November 16, I pray that it could be pushed up but if not I pray for the strength to make it to the date. I miss my single man cell but I suppose it was inevitable that I’d be moved to a two man eventually. I miss ******. I was gonna write about how if I could go back, I would do things differently, but I’m here, so I’ll stay here. I daydream about the music I’m gonna make. I hope its good. If not, I hope no one hears it. I just realized how easy it is to write this; I haven’t really fully expressed my thoughts for almost a month so I guess that makes sense. I’m gonna try to write another song or poem now. My cellmate is doing the same. White boys love the N-word. Actually, it may be 26 days of lockup, time is rough in here. Fin.
The following is the poem I wrote. It revolves around my feeling of danger when going to a lesbian party a little bit before I was locked up. Social anxiety plus not feeling like a very feminine trans woman both played their parts in making the experience miserable for me. I made out with the person I went with a little bit later so that was cool at least.
Sapphic Party
Faggot fuckGrab and tuckYou’re out of luck this timeTheres no hiding from your crimeWe’ll make your teeth shineWe’ll make you fucking whineTonight on your sin we dineA taste so heavenly, so divineDon’t be alarmed, this is fine
AbominationDon’t change the stationJust be patientWe’ll eat you soon enoughDon’t run! Don’t act tough!You’re not built of that manly stuffYou can’t handle our games so roughTranny we’ve called your bluffYou’re finishedYou’re doneYou’re throughWe’ve wonThere’s nothing to do
Theres a note at the bottom that says “Page 38 redo.” If I continue posting from this journal maybe you’ll see the redone version sometime.
October 27, 2022
25 days of lockup today. Feels like months. My next court date is November 16, I pray that it could be pushed up but if not I pray for the strength to make it to the date. I miss my single man cell but I suppose it was inevitable that I’d be moved to a two man eventually. I miss ******. I was gonna write about how if I could go back, I would do things differently, but I’m here, so I’ll stay here. I daydream about the music I’m gonna make. I hope its good. If not, I hope no one hears it. I just realized how easy it is to write this; I haven’t really fully expressed my thoughts for almost a month so I guess that makes sense. I’m gonna try to write another song or poem now. My cellmate is doing the same. White boys love the N-word. Actually, it may be 26 days of lockup, time is rough in here. Fin.
The following is the poem I wrote. It revolves around my feeling of danger when going to a lesbian party a little bit before I was locked up. Social anxiety plus not feeling like a very feminine trans woman both played their parts in making the experience miserable for me. I made out with the person I went with a little bit later so that was cool at least.
Sapphic Party
Faggot fuckGrab and tuckYou’re out of luck this timeTheres no hiding from your crimeWe’ll make your teeth shineWe’ll make you fucking whineTonight on your sin we dineA taste so heavenly, so divineDon’t be alarmed, this is fine
AbominationDon’t change the stationJust be patientWe’ll eat you soon enoughDon’t run! Don’t act tough!You’re not built of that manly stuffYou can’t handle our games so roughTranny we’ve called your bluffYou’re finishedYou’re doneYou’re throughWe’ve wonThere’s nothing to do
Theres a note at the bottom that says “Page 38 redo.” If I continue posting from this journal maybe you’ll see the redone version sometime.