Draft Thing

Several days into solitude, food is scarce, and morale is low. The thoughts of one day returning to the game had quickly become thoughts of hunger and self-questioning. Nights went by where he wondered, “Where did I screw up? What did I do to let myself stoop this low? Was it my carelessness with a measly stick? My sexist views getting the better of me a year or so ago?” He began to think, “What if it was before that? What if I was always like this? Like…I was meant to fail?” He retorted to himself, “No, dammit, don’t think like that!” He had been having these arguments with himself for quite some time now, and they always ended with him losing to himself. Where did this all begin, exactly?