August 1st
This madness has caused me to feel quite perturbed. I do believe I may have to stay in this wretched place forever. And it seems customary for these fools to enter my room every hour or so to enlighten me that the sun has come up and there is work to be done. Can they not see that I am in no way made nor built for any sort of hard labor? Not that I could do it and be successful in ways that these others could never fathom. However, I do not feel up to anything today. Or any other day for that matter. It is burdensome to even write and I wish to put my pen away as I normally do in these times.
It must be that my greatness has caused ill upon my body. As if my mind being greater than that which this body could possibly handle feels it's self-wasted in such community. That it belongs in a much greater celestial frame. But alas fell upon this wretched thing shared by those organisms. Oh, what misery I must endure upon this earth knowing I deserve to be in a much greater place of intrigue. Regrettably, I find myself here amongst these scum. Torment it must be if there were anyone such as myself at any time, at any place, such as this one. I could not imagine the pain my grandfather must feel and, in his confusion, has become a helper of those who are undeserving. And even so, my pain feels greater than required at this time. It would be better for me to pass away than live this life I no longer desire. Why do I write as such?
It makes no sense, as if on some days I feel upon a cloud and now drenched in a river, fastened to the bottom like a leech upon its prey. I cannot fathom what has become of me and I may need to quite my speech as of now for the people within this household may witness my very being in a time of distress. It would only make sense for their minds to immediately call upon the aid of a physician so that he may bleed me dry. Oh how I wish I could do the same to these lunatics. It may be best if I sleep for a while until this passes and I feel again where I must be. I am unable at this time to consider what may be best for my very self as I loathe all things. To be far away would be Honey Sweet! Or to be home again and not in this place of torment. I shall write again when this body has recovered from this illness deep.
Good Night!
YOU ARE READING
How To Survive In A Dump: The Diary of Mr. Thaddeus
FantasyHis name is Mr. Thaddeus. A young man born into wealth and prestige writes of his experiences with those who now serve under him from his own unique perspective. One that he speaks on the greatness of his own estate and himself. That is until a ver...
