Today I met a boy. He was around 17, with a cute, round little face, and his hair was half cut, but with a big fluffy bit at the back because the haircutting equipment had failed. He told me that he used it as a pillow because the pillow he has isn't very comfortable.
He was solidly built, with the gentle awkwardness children turning into adults often have about them. He had a smile that lit up the room and a canny sense of humour. He was clearly very intelligent and knew exactly what I was talking about as I babbled away in legal jargon. When our conversation ended he thanked me profusely and smiled his big childish grin as I left.
This boy is in jail. He is a crystal meth addict. When he was four years old, he tried to kill his father by replacing his methadone with bleach so that his dad wouldn't bash up his mum, and when he was 10, his mother killed his baby sister when she mistook the methadone for babies milk and fed it to the 1 year old.
This story, is one that I will never ever forget.
An aspiring journalist, advocate for justice and Justice Kirby fanatic is working towards graduation, a real job, and all her big ideas. So really, this is a place for practising those ideas. For practising real life. For penning my youth. All that.
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tell me something lovely :)