Hurley’s entry:
What’s up, Journal?
Everybody here is so into their personal drama. It’s pretty weird, I guess. There’s no room for a fat guy in all that stuff, though. Oh no, the fat guy can’t be involved in any romantic love triangles; he’d just drag everything down, right? It’d be like, an isosceles love triangle if you put fatty on one end. Speaking of, why have I even gained weight here? Between nebulous monsters and the Others, I run literally eight miles a day and there is nothing to eat here but fish and fruit. I’ve been living like a Californian trophy wife for four years now, dude, and I still look like that guy from Blues Traveler. It’s not fair. If Sawyer’s gonna keep calling me “Tubbs and Crocket,” you’d think somebody’d hook a dude up with some real food.
Today I got so desperate that I made a makeshift burrito out of leaves and this dead bird I found. It almost tasted like Taco Bell.
I cried for an hour and a half.
