"Ever heard of love at first sight?"

Those were the words that got me here, in this damp, cold, terribly white cell. It had happened two months ago and I had been minding my own business, heading to the mall to hang out with my friends. I got caught off guard as a man roughly my age stopped me and uttered those words to me. I couldn't believe it, I kept pushing my way through the crowd to get away from this loony, but he wouldn't stop following me. I called the police and they had arrested him thankfully, disaster struck.

The crazy man had filed something against me and took it to court. So I did what any person would have done, gotten myself a good lawyer, explained my story to him and we went to the trial.

The man kept putting this whole ordeal on me, which I suppose was what you were supposed to do in a trial. Oh well, I thought.

When the trial finally ended, he had successfully made me look like a basket case and gotten me locked up in the 'Insane penitentiary of California'. Which would be my home for the next several years. I thought it would be something normal, kind of like a rest home for the crazy's...but no. It was a large building, only a few windows. Long, thick electric fences guarded the place, and the people inside all wore uniforms, a polo with the logo on it and khakis. I didn't quite understand why at the time, but come to find out, you get taught things here, much like a college or something like that, only you never get a degree. It's something to pass the time with.

The place also, unlike what you would think, has a small little store inside of it. And if you're good enough, you get 'pieces' which could be redeemed at the store. The Store had various little things in it, sodas, snacks, postcards to send home, candy bars, and other things like that.

Oh, another thing about this cruel place. There is absolutely no music allowed. None played over the loudspeaker, no CD players, no iPods, no MP3s. No nothing.

Oh and also the best part of this place...which I have mentioned before is...the fact that I'm surrounded by loonies and crazy people everyday. I'm sane I swear! I kept telling the on...er...asylum therapist that I was sane and she gave me a look that looked staged, a big smile and a kind voice "Of course, Melissa, you are completely sane. Of course, sweetheart" Then I'd black out for a few hours.

Oh yeah, my name is Melissa, Melissa Wellings. Sorry I didn't tell you before. I was just so into my story...I spaced. Sorry.

In the penitentiary you get a nickname about the first week you're in. Mine is M. Just M. Why? I'm not sure but that's just how it is I guess.