Well it finally happened, I got hired! I actually can’t believe it! Mind you every other studio was interested in me, but obviously not for the right reasons. I mean all they ever did was freaking swarm around me like I'm some kind of circus act. I’ve finally found a brand that appreciates me for who I am. As a writer and an artist, I’ve found a company that actually lets me express myself; I get to live the dream. To all the people who said I couldn't do it, take a look at me now.
Working for the foundation is pretty much everything I thought it would be and more. Not only are they giving me practically everything I think I could ever need as a writer, but they’re also giving me a place to live, free food, and well… pretty much everything is free. They've even given me a complementary office with a huge window. The window doesn't have a great view considering the only scenery consists of my coworkers studying my work in their white coats all day. In a society like this, free anything is so damn rare, so you've just gotta take what you're given.
I love this job, but that isn’t going to stop me from missing my friends back home. I literally haven't had the chance to put down my work since I got here. I know I’ve finally hit the jackpot, but I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too.
It was a tough call, but I’ve decided that I’d rather be able to have the company of my friends and family than write for these people. Sure they’ve treated me well, but my coworkers informed me that this job is going to be all work no play. There are never any breaks with these people. I've been needing to sleep at the office since day one, just because of how crammed my schedule is. Writing is my passion, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it literally 24/7. They treat my writing like crack. I know it will be a let down for the foundation, but I gave them my one weeks notice. I was pretty sorry about it too.
This is messed up. I tried to leave the building today, but I couldn’t even leave my room. My office door is locked from the outside. I called for help all day, but nobody came. I know they heard me too. Some asshole walked by the glass and didn’t even acknowledge me. There’s got to be some kind of law against this bullshit right?
This is some kind of weird cult. These people are addicted to my goddamn writing. They pretty much worship it. They hang onto every word I write and literally discuss it for hours. I’ve seen them do it through the glass. I’ve tried escaping, but the walls, door, and even the damn glass are solid. We’ll see how much they worship my writing when it's god awful.
I don’t understand the infatuation of these people with my literature… I handed in my latest work, “LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU FREAKING WEIRDOS”. They literally gave me no reaction; they ate it up just like they did with all my other works. Christ, I just want to go home…
These assholes forgot to feed me today. It’s as if they haven’t ruined my life enough by imprisoning me. What's a giraffe got to do to get some sustenance?