Hello again. Today I have diarrhea.

As I squat in misery, glaring balefully at the bushes whose succulent and sweet red berries betrayed me.

I think of the last few days. AKA my life as I know it. At first, waking up in the dark. I was driven by fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the dark, fear of hunger and pain.

I was moving to abate that fear, to beat back the pain and hunger. To discover the unknown. To divine the dark. And it worked, I found fire. And fire gave me life, light, warmth, and safety.

But when I found my way out of the caves. Out of the dark. I was driven by joy. Joy of the boundless sky, of the bountiful earth, or the beaming sun. I was so happy, I forgot the fear and pain. And then those little green men brought it back.

And so I sought the cure of my fear, and brought fire to me. I tried to share it with those around me. But the lands above are not as those below. For here fire is not just light and warmth. But a choking, clinging, burning death as well.

And to these places and creatures that gave me such joy and wonder. I brought ash and death. I feel shame, and sick, and nauseous. I think that last one's from the berries though.

So as I lie here sweating into the fragant grass. My guts burning and churning, and the sour stench of sickness wafting from my chosen area of befoulment. I weep for what I have destoyed.

Good night.