Dear diary

Good news.

The bread wasn’t poisoned.

Ate all of it. All six slices of it. Didn’t even dare touch that damned butter though.

I tried smelling the water to see if there was something off about it. Didn’t smell anything. Just plain old tap water from what I could tell, so I figured I might as well drink it.

Dehydrating is the last way I wish to go.

As for the bladder situation…

I shoved aside all my honor and self-respect and lowered myself to the level I promised not to lower myself to just a couple entries ago.

I’ll spare you the details, diary, but let’s just say I figured out why I got an empty jug.

That corner on the other side of the room is actually quite a good place for this.

Far enough away from my bed so I don’t have to sleep with that putrid smell of my own piss borrowing its way into my nose…

Sorry, I promised to spare you the details.