All the talking in the world would serve at most as the proverbial bandaid. Hides the wound, but doesn't heal. I can't help thinking that there are worse fates than death. I've been thinking a lot about prisons lately and it has become all the more poignant for me one of the reasons why we do that to people: to be cut from the social foundation in which you have always found yourself is a terrible fate. Loneliness, isolation is a truly awful tool.
I am 23 years old and my parents still do not allow me to leave the house because the neighborhood is dangerous: drug dealers and thieves and drug drop points, the occasional murder apparently. Is this living in fear or is it the right thing to do to stay inside? I can't stand the inactivity I find myself in now that college is over. I want to leave this room. That would help all this a little.
What I need is a break from the decades long routine I find myself in. What I need is the warm flesh of a good woman next to me to keep me warm at night.
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10-10-2010
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