sabanist wrote:Day 19. Winter is coming, and my hopes of rescue dwindle like my food supplies. I send up flares every night, hoping that someone - anyone - will save me from the Application Received Forest, yet here I still remain. Alone. Sometimes I think I hear voices in the wind at night. Jaaaay Essssssss Twooooooooo, they cry. They wake me from what precious little sleep I manage, forcing me back into the cold, cruel reality of pre-completion. I am beginning to accept my fate; it claws at me like my hunger pangs. I am lost, and so is my application.
YOU GOOD SIR ARE FUCKING HILARIOUS.