1/24/26 13:oo hours
Dear Diary/Journal (whatever sounds more fierce and manly),
I am about to embark on a harrowing journey. I will be leaving for my podunk college town aboard my trusty steed (my Subaru) amidst a torrential snowstorm. I will then need to survive without DoorDashing food for what could be days. Because my survival is uncertain, I will be documenting my experience in case I perish (for science). If I have died and you have found my diary journal, please disregard all of the drawings of My Little Pony characters and the description of a Barbie dream house, as I definitely did not write about those things (I’m broke and totally bought this journal second-hand). Alas, I have fired up my chariot and am off on my arduous journey.
1/24/26 14:07 hours
I have reached the trail to freedom. What is typically a 15-minute endeavor took 67 minutes. The fleet of fellow chasers of freedom is at rest. Thus, I am able to safely write my thoughts while I drive my manual transmission vehicle (I’m cooler than you). And no, Mom, I am definitely not writing in my “diary” and driving for the third time this week.
There are cars all over the road; however, I see no signs of intelligent life. Some incredibly boorish travellers are going 5 mph. Others are driving Rear Wheel Drive sports cars over 80. What appears to be three to five inches of snow is present on the trail. The snow is still coming. Danger is imminent (particularly for the person I am following in the left lane going 15 mph).
1/24/26 20:00 hours
At long last, I have arrived at the land which they call “touse.” I believe that I am the bravest, strongest individual in this country for surviving this trek. The damage along the trail was unspeakable. Honda Civics in ditches. Semi-trucks blown sideways. Fellow pioneers braving the cold in search of the promised land (a faraway place other travelers call “Sheetz”). At least this storm successfully removed four Toyota Priuses from our society, so the carnage is not all negative.
Luckily for me, I am a man, so I will just bury these memories deep inside of me and never speak of them again… aside from within this diary – I mean journal – (I really should stop writing these in pen). I now turn my faith to surviving the continued onslaught.
1/25/26 12:00 hours
I have never seen so much snow in my life. I likely never will again. My outlook is gloomy. When I awoke from my slumber and checked the cellar, I was devastated to see that my comrades had not supplied me with rations. I do not understand how they expected me to provide my own nourishment; I’m just a boy, after all. My chariot has been submerged in the wretched precipitation. And, as a member of Generation Z, I am incapable of walking the three-quarters of a mile to the town square. Although, as my mother told me on the telephone this morning, I may have to “suck it up buttercup.”
1/25/26 13:30 hours
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I have arrived at the town square. I now understand my roommates when they mention the market that is Kroger. It is an unfamiliar land. None of the options for nourishment looks appetizing. I was just told that I will have to do something called “cooking.” I guess I will ask ChatGPT what I am to do with this information.
1/25/26 17:45 hours
I have thoroughly enjoyed my life on this Earth. I am proud to have survived 1.1 scores. However, I believe the heavens are calling my name. My quarters are in dismay. Apparently, you are supposed to add water to the delicacy that is microwavable mac and cheese. I did not do so. Now, my dwelling is screaming at me, and I am standing in the storm wearing a hoodie, shorts and sandals without socks. I guess this is why people said I needed to wear different clothing to class. My only hope is to trek to the promised land. Wish me luck.
1/26/26 12:30 hours
My pilgrimage is now complete. I lost track of the true endpoint of my journey. I have reached the place that I have always gone to in times of need: Brick Street. I have found others like me, struggling to survive, in this establishment. However, I believe that our fearless leader, Will Weisman, will lead us to safety. Consider me a survivor of this harrowing storm. When in doubt, roll Brick.
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