It is morning again.
I try to wake up with some kind of optimism, but I have nothing left. I wait for the day that I just refuse to wake up altogether. I pray that I die in my sleep, yet I can not quite bring myself to take an active role in my own suicide.
Today I will have to try some of the native plants. I've noticed the rabbit-like creatures (hares, henceforth) eating the yellow-leafed plants, but avoiding the ones with purple leaves.
Attempting to eat the local floral may be a huge risk, but now I have nothing left to lose. In the worst possible scenario, I will still have bullets to end the pain.

Every year my little Tiran bean garden gets smaller and smaller.
The twenty-four pounds of beans that left Tiran with me have dwindled over the years until I have less than eight plants to harvest this year. I'm sure there was a smarter way of doing this in order to yield a larger crop each year, but horticulture is also not in my skill set. I've wondered if I have any actual, useful skills that will help me carve out a living, now that my shipboard resources are nearly extinct.
The first year I was here, I tried hunting the native wildlife, but it was a dismal failure. Lizards, small rabbit-like creatures, and birds seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke as soon as I came within rock-throwing distance. With only one small sidearm, it seemed imprudent to use ammunition when I might later need to defend myself against the larger creatures that inhabit this world.
There are larger creatures, I see them often in the distance. Huge, bird-like creatures that can be seen from a mile or more away. None have come close, however, and I do not dare to venture closer on my own for a better look. As far as I can tell, they have decided that I unworthy of bothering with, and so I give them that same respect.