And This Is Possible!

Dear Jersey,

I get out next week! Can you believe it? By the time you get this letter you will probably be preparing to come to Vegas and see me, but I still wanted to write to you.

So, I told Nasty to tell all of the fans that I won’t be out until January, that way I can have time to readjust to being out in the world again and more importantly; time to spend with you.
I think I’m more excited about meeting you than I am for being free. Haha. I want to show you Vegas Ronnie Style. I want to show you all the beauty people over look so often. I want to take you to all my favorite places and share them with you. I want you to meet my friends and my dad. I want to impress you with my world.

I just had a mixture of a song from Aladdin and a song from The Little Mermaid pop into my head…. >_<

So, this letter is going to be short. I’m sorry bout that but I’ve been so fucking busy with lawyer shit and stuff now that I’m about to get out. But hey; at least all of this is worth it. It means I’ll be out in no time.

Speaking of being out; I will be freshly clean. I’m going to smell of soap and cigarettes. Haha.
And the blackest eyeliner you can find. :)

Love,

Ronnie

p.s. Jersey, I think when I see you I’m going to fall for you. I hope that feeling is mutual.

I stared down at the last line and put the eraser to it, scrubbing vigorously. I made sure that it was illegible by the time I was done. In the space that once occupied the impulsive feelings I wasn’t ready to share I rambled on about needing to cut the dead ends off of my hair.

I shoved the letter into the envelope, mentally smacking myself for my stupidity. My hair? Seriously? I couldn’t think of something better to ramble with?

I handed the letter to the security guard who would be sending it out and went to my bunk. I lay down, resting my arm on my arm, and reached under my pillow, pulling out the picture I had memorized already. I smiled, seeing Jersey’s face.

One more week until I get to see the subject of this picture in person.

One week was starting to seem like a year to me. I shoved her picture back under my pillow. I sat up and ran my hands through my already long hair and kicked the end of the bed in frustration.

If this week doesn’t hurry up I’m going to go insane.