Dear Diary,


None of them understand me. All I want to do is to just get off this gosh darn island. There really is no reason to be playing and messing around while our fire runs out, and our food is practically nonexistent! And Jack! Boy, do I hate that guy. What a jerk; teasing me just because of my size. Hell, all I’d want from him and the rest of the boys right now is respect and togetherness. Tease me all they like, but there’s no reason to exclude me from trying. We all want to get off this island; I don’t see why we’re not working toward this common goal. To choose separate from each other on this island is to choose death.

Ralph is probably the only person who may somewhat understand me, but even he is far from being considerate of what I say and suggest. Sure, he’s not as bad as Jack, but I still think he’s been distant and maybe even a little cruel to us after what happened with the fire. Jack--all he cares about is the thrill of hunting. Ralph is too indulged in leadership. What does that leave me with? Literally everything else! And yet, they choose to limit me to gathering and remembering names and doing all these stupid, menial tasks.

What do I get out of this? Nothing. Instead, I lose something. Everytime. They took my glasses and broke one lens already. I understand that we need a fire, but at least ask for it. Now I can’t see through one. My specs are useful to them but it grows evermore useless to me. Like the littluns too; all of them following the same cycle. Eat food. Obey Ralph. Mock me. If hell could be embodied into an island, this would be the one.