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Personal Narrative-Loathing Monologue

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Personal Narrative-Loathing Monologue
Another day sleeping under this wrecthced bridge with my pointless abillty,turning straw into gold how absurd. I yearn for a friend or just something to talk to instead of having a self loathing monologue. What are those simpletons yelling about? Turing straw into gold who told them? The miller's daughter there's someone else like me. I must confront her..she was locked in a barn and she is crying. I suppose I should try to comfrot her, the moment I crawled through the window and her face the moment she saw me I was quickly remined me why I hate people. After she calmed down I found out she can't turn staw into gold and her terrible father lied about it. I'm going to help her but, I'm going to squeeze as much as I can out of this. I made her
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