Despite grand schemes of winning the lottery and writing a million-dollar book, I am about as impoverish as it gets. I mean, I have some seriously bad luck. If this were "ye olde" Europe, I would probably be a beggar with Leprosy and the plague. I might score a ticket to the pit of a famous play at one point in my life, but then I would be attacked by rabid birds and my ticket would be stolen by someone who was a far greater jerk than I. But, at least I would still have my pet mouse, Gris, until I succumbed to the plague that his fleas gave me.
From all that, it may sound like I'm one of those depressed and wangsty people, but I'm really not. I try to keep optimistic, and I consider these hardships some sort of crazy trial. Mmm, trial = Phoenix Wright. That would make my life some sort of crazy Phoenix Wright. Yep, that sums it up just fine for now.
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