Day 272: Panic, that's the only way too describe it, there aren't many doctors in hell, and even fewer are trust worthy, Mom is helping as best she can
Day 275: What the f**k? I need to go on a baby punching rampage if these butt-holes don't stop writing in my journal. none of this makes any sense. Babies? Cat People?
On a unrelated note, found a kick-ass rock that looked like Elvis.
Day 277: Woke up, my Elvis rock is nowhere to be found. Dude writing in my journal thinks that I am him. What a freak! Need to come up with a scheme to escape hell...
Day 283: Other me confronted me today, I told him that in hell you have too live with multiple versions of yourself as punishment, each has taken different choices, some are more successful, some less, you cant stand the better yous and you become buddies with the worse ones, I'm the second best
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