Sunday
Mommy bought me a humongous pizza cake today. I was so so happy. It was only because she felt bad for me, but still. It tasted amazing. I added these crushed chocolate sandwich crackers, and it tasted super duper.
Friday
I found this old diary while cleaning out my room. I am now 73 years old and diagnosed with a disease. Doctors tell me that I have a month to live. I may as well finish the story that I started 67 years ago and leave this for someone to find. I hope they can see that a chip insertion is not the best thing for their lives.
After the allergic reaction that forced the chip to be taken out of my brain, I never did get a chip insertion. Mom and Dad debated on requesting a special chip without cinnamon, which was the very thing that I was allergic to. However, they decided instead to buy an enormous new addition to the house. I was devastated, being the only six year old that talked like a baby. I received low scores for my tests and while the other kids were saying things like "I abhor your horrendous behavior," I would simply say "I hate you."
While the others around me grew with brilliant minds and went on to do even more brilliant things, I dropped out of school and served pizza ice cream for the majority of my life. And for many years, I hated myself. I hated my allergy, I hated my job, I hated how stupid I was, and I hated being alive.
And then something happened which helped me to see the benefits of my situation. I was walking home from work one day and saw this little girl lying on the street. She was barely clothed and starving. I later discovered that her parents had thrown her out into the street because she was too ugly. Everyone else walked by the the girl with
barely a glance in her direction. I couldn’t believe it. These people had
64