Something I started, I like the idea.. Do you think I should continue with this? I really appreciate anything anyone has to say, so be brutal! 
Prison. What image does that word conjure up in your mind?
If you're anything like me you'll be thinking of small, cramped rooms, bunk beds, bare cracked walls, barred windows and doors. You're right, you know. That is a pretty accurate description of where I'm sitting right now, only the walls here are newly painted. Urine yellow, I think it's supposed to be a warm colour. The last person who was put in this cell tore his wrists open with his teeth. He left a blood stain on the wall, and they painted over it. They don't want us getting any good ideas.
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I was a caretaker, typical, I know. You hear new stories every week about some caretaker, school bus driver, cleaner who took the jobs so that they could be close to children. These perverts would then maybe hide in a supply cupboard and jerk off to the sounds of children screaming, they could maybe use the on-bus security camera to film the kids mucking about, they might tell one of the kids that they found something in a classroom which might belong to them. Hey kid, you lost a wallet?
Only a mug could say no.
Then maybe they'd take this kid to get his wallet, and instead push him into an empty classroom. Hey kid, I'll give you twenty bucks if you don't tell anyone about this.
Only a mug would say no.
But, I'm not one of them. I dropped out of school at 15, then at 16 I didn't have a house to live in. No qualifications, but I know how to screw in light bulbs, I know how to climb a ladder and I can tighten loose screws. Perfect for the job. So, I'm a caretaker.. but I am not one of them. Those kiddie-fiddlers; raping boys in dark classroom corners.
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I am not the kind of person who can go up to a girl and talk to them. I'm not the kind of person who can go up to anyone, and talk to them. I get stage fright going up to a shop counter; that's the kind of person I am. I always thought that being shy should be put on the disability register. It is crippling, in a sense.
But, this is why me and her are so perfect for each other.
The first time I saw her she was standing at the edge of a hallway, over-flowing with teenagers. You could just smell the hormones. The look of panic in her eyes, I knew she felt the same way as me. Absolutely terrified. Terrified that someone might look in her direction, terrified that someone might talk to her. Please God, don't let anyone talk to me. She pressed herself against the wall, and clung to her bag as if it were the ring float that was going to save her from drowning. As the hallway emptied she dislodged herself from the wall and scurried around a corner, eyes to the floor.
you can vent away at me, I won't take it personally. The only reason I didn't post more is because this is all I've written 
nice ego boost!
