Don't fudgin' kill me. Think of this story as a journal. 8( ----- It was the day of January 14 when I made this. It was shivering cold, even if it didn't snow. The bells rang and I snapped at the neighbors who were making awkward an suspicious noises nearby. I glared at the wall and decided to show them a piece of my mind. Sadly, the door was stuck, and I was locked in my room. I had nothing else to do except be who I am. A hermit. It was cloudy that day, as I began to write my will. 'When I die, remember me for who I am! A hermit living in your daughter's room. P.S., I like pie.' The letter I wrote was done in sloppy handwriting, and I made it so to make it sound as if I was really dying. All I actually wanted was to chew on something, actually. ---- I was tired. I banged my hea on the wall and a blotch of red stained the white cement. I didn't care. I bit my fingernails as I was awaiting a call from my father, who was doing something. Somebody did call though, somebody annonymous. I picked up the phone and heard a voice. It was calling out to me like Ben and Jerry's icecream did when I was in need of company I'd never get. The caller was... A persistent salesman. He was selling something... Something that didn't matter to me or have any affect on my life. So all I did was threaten to get a restraining order and sue him for false advertisement. He immediately canceled the call. I was so bored and annoyed that my very own father had ditched me to get drunk again. That was why, I drew something. That something, was a llama. ---- D: Don't blame me. I really did write a note rofl. I told my mom I'd go buy some milk. Then I waltzed out of the apartment and went to the marketplace where I met a hermit crab that knew how to do the limbo. :0