That poor soul.
Day 399:
Still trapped in this wasteland. At first, I thought I could survive happily on a diet of pun-berries from the fields of pun-bushes, but their initial sweet taste belies their lack of nutrition and their slow-working toxins.
Day 415:
The nights are cold, as I don't dare a fire for warmth. If one or several of the tribes were to spot me, I'd be attacked and probably eaten. Even if I were to identify with one of the tribes for survival and numbers--say, the Sunshine Pumpers or the Negas. The other tribes would attack me as they attacked my new group daily. It's safer to remain cold, hungry and unnoticed in the caves.
Day 428:
I found a new section of the island called "Football Forum". I am so afraid.
Day 442:
I happened upon a cliff called "Political Forum". I've lost faith in humanity. Why did I take this assignment? Oh God! Why!?
Day 470:
It turns out the entire island is infested by trolls. From what I can tell, they're not native to the island, but instead exert great energy and self expense to swim here, defecate everywhere, and then exert just as much energy and expense to swim home, eat their self-loathing, and repeat the ritualistic defecation trip daily. Truly bewildering creatures that could only have evolved in areas where there is no sense of personal worth or responsibility.
Day 512:
My life entails prayer for rescue and eating slugs from the shoreline.
It's cold. So cold.
I'm so hungry and lonely.
Wait... What was that?!
Oh my God! They're comi...