I don’t know how people talk to me. I complain so fucking much. That Doolies can put up with me is a miracle. I complain about just about everything: the weather, having to eat, sleeping—anything that at first I think would be cute, but then I take to exrremes until the cuteness devolves into annoyance.

You will not complain in the story. You’ll appear innocent and a victim. In the end you will not be so innocent. I even annoy myself after a while. Go figure.