I had dreams again. People write about this shit on here all the time, so I guess I should too. Be social.
I was on Death Row for taking a knife to my mother's throat. And I was...scared, I guess. I didn't want to die. I don't want to die now. Not ever. That end date was coming so close, that damn needle ready for my arm and pump me full of poison. How could they do that? How could they think of doing that to me? Yeah, I killed my mother and I feel bad about it. But I don't have to die for that, right?
And then Project Noah. They strapped me down, and I couldn't move, and there were other needles. Not full of poison, full of something else. It was insane, and I was out of my straps in two seconds and I was going right through people. Just...picking them up and splitting them in half. It was like my hands were knives, just tearing through skin and feeling all the blood rush over me and I had this huge big grin on my fucking face. It was...it was pretty fucking good.
So there's a good reason for all this shit, right?
(private to Kirsty)
Sorry again about the sleep-walking. I didn't freak you out too much, did I?