A place that mirrors the essence of the universal law to contain and isolate evil; very skewed by humans, much like everything else.
Sergii
That dull ache between the ribs as I’m doing time for the crime in a jail that’s become an all encompassing prison. Sometimes I sit and think. Sometimes I only think about how this farce could have been different. You look at me. I look at you. The trends that surround us, the masks, the misdirections, the game of those who play the Whosits with their brand new Whatsits that they got for a really great steal. But none of that really mattered did it? Not when I think about your eyes. How I love them. How I hate them. How I have to do without them now.
PSL
Wow. I’ve never been to jail, but I’ve learned a lot about it from Isaac continuously going there. I hate the American justice system.
Alyssa L Gentry
“You can’t take me! I have a wife– I’ve got KIDS to support!”
“Well then, this’ll teach you not to screw your life over again”
“It wasn’t /me/, it was the other guy, the one who ran! The innocent never run, and I didn’t run.”
“Just shut your trap and get in the damn car. Or I’ll make you”
“Woah, calm down there, cop, no need to fire your taser at me… geez”
Luna Canal
Jail to me is not a place where the mistaken people staying but it about the mindset which you set yourself very limited to do something, so break your jail do whatever you love.
kopolo
It does not feel like a prison.
It’s not like – it’s not like it’s easy. It’s not like he can catch the ball in his hands, toss it in the sky; strike it to the starting line as naturally as breathing. He’s not a genius. Will never be a genius. He’s nothing like the others in his sport and nothing like a star, but he’s. He’s something.
But it’s not like it’s a limit, either. Doesn’t feel like there’s a limit. When there’s six hours of practice behind his back and air tasting sharp and acid in his lungs, when there is only the court beneath his feet and the blood burning in his veins, he is /unstoppable/. These times are the best and no, no one really understands: the net is no wall to climb over if only they could see it that way.
You’re overworking yourself, they say. Maybe you should stop. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe one day it will be enough. He doesn’t have to keep himself in his tiny cage and only live on half-formed plays. Everyone tells him this: you have enough, you have the better and the best, or at the very least you have more than your body your mind your soul can hold.
The walls of the house seemed to narrow in on her, the way her eyes did on him. The space felt tight and claustrophobic, and her body felt numb. He was coming towards her again, ‘there must be a way to escape’ she thought, but how? Confused she stood, like a deer in car headlights; just watching as he destroyed her soul. He slammed her body into the wall, his hands forcefully holding her from getting away. The pit of her stomach flipped, the way pancake batter does on a grill. Holding her wrists in the grasp of one hand he covered her mouth with the other. She tasted the sweat and the intention on the palm of his hand. She was trapped, a prisoner of her own shame.
Secluded and shut off from the world. A mental jail of your own bad choices. Reflection of the emptiness you feel with yourself.
M&M
“YOU”LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, COPPAS!” I screamed as I ran away. “WELL,YOUR GONNA HAVE TO GO TO JAIL MISSY,” they yelled back. “STEALING A BIKE IS AGAINST THEN LAW!”
Samantha
I hear that jail is a terrible place to go to, and that you have to pay a lot of money to get out. I believe you have to pay $50,00 to get out of jail.
Julianne Engel
I hear that jail is a terrible place to go to. Terribly mean people, bad jail cells, mean jailers, etc. I hear that when you do something terrible, you’re there until you can pay, like, $50,00. Now THAT, is a lot of money. And, to some people, money isn’t that easy to come by these days.
Julianne Engel
Ok, so this is gonna sound fake, but I’ve been to jail 7,695 times. Only about 8 of those was for things I actually I did. I’m not making this up ok, like, I honestly did not do all the crap they say I did. The immortal know how to mind their own business ok. It wouldn’t even make sense for me to steal stuff, I’ve been around so long I’m rich just from my savings account. But I’ve got the worst case of bad luck.
Jail is a place where they send people who have done something criminal or illegal, Like rob a bank, put threats on a school try to kill someone or driving under the influence etc.
TessaAnn
My heart feels like it’s in jail right now. It’s trapped in a pattern of loss of control and too much control.
A place that mirrors the essence of the universal law to contain and isolate evil; very skewed by humans, much like everything else.
That dull ache between the ribs as I’m doing time for the crime in a jail that’s become an all encompassing prison. Sometimes I sit and think. Sometimes I only think about how this farce could have been different. You look at me. I look at you. The trends that surround us, the masks, the misdirections, the game of those who play the Whosits with their brand new Whatsits that they got for a really great steal. But none of that really mattered did it? Not when I think about your eyes. How I love them. How I hate them. How I have to do without them now.
Wow. I’ve never been to jail, but I’ve learned a lot about it from Isaac continuously going there. I hate the American justice system.
“You can’t take me! I have a wife– I’ve got KIDS to support!”
“Well then, this’ll teach you not to screw your life over again”
“It wasn’t /me/, it was the other guy, the one who ran! The innocent never run, and I didn’t run.”
“Just shut your trap and get in the damn car. Or I’ll make you”
“Woah, calm down there, cop, no need to fire your taser at me… geez”
Jail to me is not a place where the mistaken people staying but it about the mindset which you set yourself very limited to do something, so break your jail do whatever you love.
It does not feel like a prison.
It’s not like – it’s not like it’s easy. It’s not like he can catch the ball in his hands, toss it in the sky; strike it to the starting line as naturally as breathing. He’s not a genius. Will never be a genius. He’s nothing like the others in his sport and nothing like a star, but he’s. He’s something.
But it’s not like it’s a limit, either. Doesn’t feel like there’s a limit. When there’s six hours of practice behind his back and air tasting sharp and acid in his lungs, when there is only the court beneath his feet and the blood burning in his veins, he is /unstoppable/. These times are the best and no, no one really understands: the net is no wall to climb over if only they could see it that way.
You’re overworking yourself, they say. Maybe you should stop. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe one day it will be enough. He doesn’t have to keep himself in his tiny cage and only live on half-formed plays. Everyone tells him this: you have enough, you have the better and the best, or at the very least you have more than your body your mind your soul can hold.
He does not stop. He does not breathe.
He is not a genius.
He lives.
The walls of the house seemed to narrow in on her, the way her eyes did on him. The space felt tight and claustrophobic, and her body felt numb. He was coming towards her again, ‘there must be a way to escape’ she thought, but how? Confused she stood, like a deer in car headlights; just watching as he destroyed her soul. He slammed her body into the wall, his hands forcefully holding her from getting away. The pit of her stomach flipped, the way pancake batter does on a grill. Holding her wrists in the grasp of one hand he covered her mouth with the other. She tasted the sweat and the intention on the palm of his hand. She was trapped, a prisoner of her own shame.
Secluded and shut off from the world. A mental jail of your own bad choices. Reflection of the emptiness you feel with yourself.
“YOU”LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, COPPAS!” I screamed as I ran away. “WELL,YOUR GONNA HAVE TO GO TO JAIL MISSY,” they yelled back. “STEALING A BIKE IS AGAINST THEN LAW!”
I hear that jail is a terrible place to go to, and that you have to pay a lot of money to get out. I believe you have to pay $50,00 to get out of jail.
I hear that jail is a terrible place to go to. Terribly mean people, bad jail cells, mean jailers, etc. I hear that when you do something terrible, you’re there until you can pay, like, $50,00. Now THAT, is a lot of money. And, to some people, money isn’t that easy to come by these days.
Ok, so this is gonna sound fake, but I’ve been to jail 7,695 times. Only about 8 of those was for things I actually I did. I’m not making this up ok, like, I honestly did not do all the crap they say I did. The immortal know how to mind their own business ok. It wouldn’t even make sense for me to steal stuff, I’ve been around so long I’m rich just from my savings account. But I’ve got the worst case of bad luck.
Jail is a place where they send people who have done something criminal or illegal, Like rob a bank, put threats on a school try to kill someone or driving under the influence etc.
My heart feels like it’s in jail right now. It’s trapped in a pattern of loss of control and too much control.