Dear diary, mood: apathetic. My life is spiralling downwards. My neighbours and I are flinging debris at each other, a bleak dance of frustration in a world that offers little else.

We're all Gloomy Octopuses; the name says it all, doesn't it? Stuck in my dark, rocky den, I inadvertently shape the ecosystem around me. A reluctant ecosystem engineer in a sea of meaningless existence.

Mating season, you ask? Ah, the cruel irony. We females might cannibalise our mates, then lay eggs and meet our own inescapable demise. I guard those eggs, but for what? A new generation of apathy? I can't help but wonder if this cycle of gloom will ever end. But for now, it's back to my dreary den—a fitting monument to my perpetual ennui.