[ WP ] A man is banished to the wilderness for 20 years . Write his diary entries for his first and last days of exile .

I cant do this. I cant do this. I cant do this. I cant do this. 
 
 Help. HELP. 
 
 No one is going to help me. I should just end it all. This is my own fault, I'm an idiot for even existing. They should have killed me. I'd rather be dead. I could just do it myself. No one left to care. Not even I care. I'm alone out here. Not even sure if my writings in the dark are straight on the lines of this tattered notebook. Its so cold and dark. No more tears left to shed. I hope I die tonight. 
 
 -- 
 
 I survived the night. Should n't that mean that I am the one that needs to care? What does anything even mean anymore? Why am I discarded like someones trash? The Dwelling could be in any direction. There's no point in even trying. The thick leaves make it cold. I want to freeze. 
 
 -- 
 
 It rained in the night, I was more cold than I'd ever been. I did n't want to move, but my body got up and did everything anyway. I found a hollow tree trunk and shoved it full of leaves. In the morning I was still alive so I guess that means something. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 Year 19, Day 363 
 
 I've come a long way from the scared little girl in the jungle. A long way from finding my first birds eggs to eat and tiny springs to drink from. I've searched high and low for The Dwelling. I never have found it once. Wherever they took me, it is remote. I've been thinking a lot about the coming days. In my past I cherished the idea of these final days, as this whole journal could detail. But now as it lingers very near, I do n't want to return. If they come for me, I already know I will be wary of them. Perhaps I could hide and they would never find me, I have often thought, but by now they have the technology they desperately sought to find me anywhere. My punishment is no longer the banishment, but the return. 
 
 Year 19 Day 364 
 
 Nothing much to do today. I thought too hard on what could be and what might be. My stomach is sick despite the full belly of iguana. It should be a good night, but the hair on my neck is standing up, I'm ready to run. 
 
 Year 20 
 
 I WAS WRONG. I WAS WRONG. 
 
 Forgive me. 
 

