There's another guy here named Mike and we made friends.

He’s 41, so about my age, and also he’s bald, too.

Shaving one’s head is kind of a big to-do here. No razors, so you gotta buzz it down and it takes forever. I’ve actually been thinking of growing hair, something I haven’t had since like ‘95.

Most guys shave their face and let their hair grow. Haha. Not me, I’m a rebel. I do the exact opposite.

So this guy Mike and me are friends. He has trouble with boundaries, as in, he keeps grabbing vaginas and boobs.

This is frowned upon in polite society.

I mean who wants to be at Wal-Mart looking for a worthless, unneeded piece of plastic bullshit when some bald guy comes up and grabs your tit?

No one.

Mike swears he can’t help himself. He’s just really really really REALLY horny all the time. When he’s at home, all he does is jack off to internet porn. “Constantly,” he says. “Until I need aloe on my dick.”

His right bicep is twice as big as his left bicep. The man is committed.

I made friends with him because at least he is coherent and can talk about something other than himself. Most crazy or mentally ill people, I am learning, exist in a Universe which contains only one object: ME ME ME. Mike’s Universe is filled with titties and snatches.

For some reason, I respect that more. God, the WHINING, is probably why. Mike doesn’t whine.

As I have gotten to know him, I am quite certain he should never be let go. He’s already a registered sex offender and it’s clearly only going to get worse. How he ended up in this facility is a joke: funding. The other places were full. The state didn’t have enough money. Yadda yadda yadda. He is one of the handful here who are not voluntary. He has no outside privileges, but believe me, getting out of here would be, like, a three minute job.

Anyway, that’s a America in the early 21st Century. Yee haw