Dear Diary,

I am so amazingly bored right now, mostly because Zim hasn’t been up to his usual antics today. Ugh, I hate Fridays… Y’know how must people hate Mondays? Well, Monday is my favorite day; it means the weekend is over and believe me, weekends pretty much suck for an anti-social loser like me.

Speaking of Zim, his disguise is pretty much perfected by now. He finally got over that bad Elvis wig and now has kind of emo-looking hair. He normally wears dark jeans and a variety of shirts. I guess he learned the joys of human clothing, eh? (Insert sarcastic chuckle here.)

I’ve been thinking lately and I’ve come to this conclusion: A lie is a lie, no matter what context it’s in or who believes it. Even if the one who told it believes it’s the truth, it’s still a fabrication; something to keep you comforted in the lonely nights. But… if everyone believes it but one person, does that make it the truth?

I suppose that can’t be true. Everyone believed the world was flat at some point. Yet one man said it was round. Crazy, they called him. His idea was stupid; there was no way that could be true. Frickin’ Columbus was an effing lunatic.

And now, long after he’s dead, it’s a universal truth.

That isn’t fair! I’ve been telling them Zim’s an alien since Fifth Grade. And still they refuse to listen! Honestly, what’s the point in warning these idiots of their impending doom and thwarting his plans, day in and day out? It’s maddening! They’re the kind of people that DESERVE to get enslaved. Really, what’s the point? Mind telling me? Agh, never mind, I know you can’t really tell me. And that’s the limitation of talking to a book.

Oh, what now? Frickin’… Zim just threw me a note. I better read it or he might make a ruckus. I’ll finish this later.

Dib Membrane