My god. I'm so fucking bored.

The excitement of the vending machines has worn off. Like, seriously. Ugh.

Weather needs to get better. I want to go outside or something with out getting fucking mud all over my shoes.

Davids clearly doesn't give a fuck. Haven't heard form him at all. What a lame ass.

GOOD FUCKING BYE CHERRY HOLLOW


Merry Christmas to all and to all a GOOD FUCKING NIGHT

NEVAN, I'm leaving on Sunday. You want to go with me?

I'm getting the fuck OUT OF HERE!

NO MORE DOCTOR DAVIDS!!!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!!!!!!!

I can't wait, I'm going to leave as soon as possible!

Anyone want to arrange to get a ride over to Providence the same day as me??

Meet me in the cafeteria tomorrow for Thanksgiving plotting. To get out.

I don't care who you are, just show up.

Except Denzil. You're not invited.

Who wants to plan an escape with me??? I can't take this anymore.

FROM: Charley [johnsoncha@ch.gov]
TO: D [davidsjos@ch.gov]
DATE: November 10, 11:50 AM
SUBJECT: Hey

( Hey )

From: charley [johnsoncha@ch.gov]
To: d [davidsjos@ch.gov]
Date: 11 October 2007, 8:54
Subject: ( ???? )

Happy birthday, Nevan.

See I didn't forget. I fuckin' rock.

Hopefully your birthday is better than mine was.

Now let's go have a goddamn cigarette!!!

I was going for strawberry blonde, but they wouldn't let me bleach the brown out first. So I've got strawberry orange.

FUCK.

Oh well.

At least they get you things a lot faster when you tell 'em your mother just died.

My mother's dead.


I think I'm going to dye my hair again. Brown has gotten boring. Any suggestions for a new color?

I made a bet with Dr. Davids about how my therapy is going to work.

What a joke, right? Like he's actually going to follow through with it. They haven't taken me off of my meds yet... so I don't think it's going to be happening.

It'd be nice to be heard though... for once.

Haven't seen my doctor in a month.

What a fuck up.

What the FUCK is that furry turd-like in our room?! It like... talked to me or something! What the fuck!

( private )

I'm with Nevan. Fuck all of you. And fuck doctors especially.

None of you fucking care about me anyway. Just because I'm not perfect. I'm not a pretty, talented little boy or a beautiful, skinny girl like all of the rest of you. Most of you wouldn't give me the time of day because I'm curvy, and I've got a mouth.

You know why I fucking have a mouth? It's my goddamn defense system. 'cause no one has ever given me a chance. 'Cause no one stops and wonders what's wrong with good 'ol Charley because she's not pretty enough, or talented enough, or special enough like the rest of you fucks. No one pities me for what happened to me growing up, or how hard my life is now. Everyone just fucking looks at me and says 'you deserve it.'

Why the fuck do I deserve it any more than the person next to me? I'm so fucking sick of this. I'm not fucking perfect, okay? What the fuck do I have to do to get a hug around here, or to get someone to fucking care?

I'm not like Cresenne, okay? No one's going to read this fucking entry and say "Charley, are you okay?" and come check on me. No one's even going to fucking read it. They just skim right past me like they have my whole fucking life. No one's going to reply to this at all because you all think you're better than me. Well fuck you! I can't help it that I was born on the wrong side of town. I don't know what the fuck I did to make myself so goddamn invisible, but I'm fucking through with it.

If I ended it right fucking now none of you would even fucking care. Because I'm just Charley.... Charlotte Anne Johnson. The one none of you care about, and would never bother yourself to care just because I'm not up to your standards. I'm not good enough for any of you.

Story of my fucking goddamn life.

This fourth of July sucked.

I could see fireworks through the bars of one of the common room windows, but they were pretty far away. Tiny little bursts in the sky.

I wonder if my brother was watching fireworks with his new sex toy. I bet they were fucking instead.

I really need a beer.

So, how the hell am I supposed to get "treated" if my therapist is more strung out than I am?

Twenty years is a long fucking time to not get over someone.

I dyed my hair! Chocolate Mousse... Herbal Essences makes sweet dye.

Fucking finally.

It's Memorial day. I'm supposed to be out, tanning by the pool, sipping a beer, and probably partying later in the day.

Instead, I'm stuck in here, sitting by the computer, bored out of my fucking skull. Maybe if I'm LUCKY I'll get a cigarette later.

What the hell?

Can I at least go outside or something? Jesus, FUCK!

Are you all fucking done ignoring me yet?

I need some goddamn people to talk to. Yeah, that's right. Talk to, not fuck.

If only Patrick could hear me now.



I need hair dye. Where do I get it?