Chapter 1
Dear nonexistent diary,
I got arrested today! Actually no, that’s a lie, but I got thrown in prison today! Like, the dark, dark area of the prison where the sun never reaches and no one ever finds you because you’re so far down in the prison that you’re really far underground and no one who isn’t supposed to be there makes it down to the negative whatever level without getting caught. So, you know. Fun times. I honestly don’t even know what I did to get arrested. Like, I know I did something, but I don’t know what they found out about. It was probably something really stupid, instead of, you know, the rebel stuff I’m part of because that’s just my luck. Besides, they probably would have just executed me if it was the rebel stuff. But seriously, I’m probably here because of one of the stupid little illegal things that I don’t even think about anymore. Like tripping a stormtrooper. Or breaking and entering. Or… I don’t know, I do a lot of illegal things. I’d be a wanted fugitive with a ‘shoot on sight’ command if I ever got caught doing the things I spend half my life doing. I don’t really think about all the little things I do anymore.
In other news, I don’t have a cellmate. Disappointing. On the other hand, there’s someone in the cell across the hall from me, and you can see through the shields that work as the cell doors, so we can see and talk to each other. But also they haven’t responded to anything from me talking at them to me shouting at them to me doing stupid osik to get their attention, so either they're ignoring me, they're sleeping, they’re deaf, or they’re dead. I’m leaning toward the last one. It doesn’t look like they’re breathing. Like, it’s a little hard to tell from across the hall, but it doesn’t look like it. And it should be impossible to sit that still, even if you’re sleeping. Honestly, especially if you’re sleeping, because you can’t hold yourself still.
I mean, they’re still there. I can still talk to them. They just won’t respond.
Although, maybe they aren't dead. I think they are, but maybe one day they’ll just get so tired of me or something that they’ll tell me to kriff off or something. I don’t know.
I’ll have to see if they move.
Anyway. I’m kind of bored. Being a prisoner is boring. So, like, thus the diary. Like, it’s not exactly like I have anything to write it on, but you know. Mental diary.
Seriously. It passes the time, and it gives me plausible deniability to say I’m not going insane. Every prisoner should try it.
Rex would totally call me out on my banthacrap, right there.
Okay, thinking time’s over. We’re not going there yet.
Back to doing stupid shit to get the attention of the possibly dead human across the hall, I guess.
I love my life. Sarcasm heavily intended.