Dear Diary. Dead of Winter. Year 230?

From a collection of diaries found in an abandoned cabin deep in a forest:

Dead of Winter. Year 230? in Forest.

Dear Diary,

    Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. So much nothing. All I want is something. The forest only holds so much discovery to be had. Only so much to do. Perhaps there are new areas to explore that somehow even now I have not found but I am bored. No day holds anything new any more. I have not had a visitor in decades. There is no reason to do anything.

    The only reason I write this now is to give my hands something to do rather than let them claw my eyes out. I am sick of this. Physically and mentally. There is only so much to do. I wish I could leave. I wish someone would stay. They all come and go and mostly go. I am so bored! Nothing I have to offer is as good as what must be out there.

    Why do others have the grace and mercy of age yet I do not? Why am i denied that mercy? There is no reason for a long life when there is no life to be had!

    There is no one to pray to or beg for something to happen. But if there was, I will take anything. Anything at all that you throw at me. As long as you throw something!

    Anything.