Diaries from Suburbia (Chapter 3)


Mr. Independent

Dear diary,

I spend ten minutes in quiet contemplation. Call it a moment of silence in preparation for an act of utmost creativity.

You see, I’ve lugged my half-naked carcass out of bed at seven in the morning and without even taking a second to rub my eyes, I’ve had to go relieve myself. Today I fly a solo mission dropping doo-doo bombs over enemy waters, and I hope to do it silently without creating too much of a mess.

Since I’ve won this round to my satisfaction, it’s now time to think about what I do next. Do I get breakfast? Do I make coffee? Do I bite an apple and hope it gets me through the rest of my morning? What are the rules of this thing? Are there even rules?

I take a second for it to sink in. There are no rules.

Another second…

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