#toadlife

Stuck in this room with nothing but my thoughts and this ridiculous oversized stylist. It's literally impossible to control. I have no opposable thumbs, you know? So I had to draw this the only way I could—with my rage as the guiding hand.

Maybe if I had a proper tool, I wouldn't be trapped in this frog-infested prison of a room. But noooo, instead I get a gigantic, impractical stylus to deal with. This is the life of a cursed toad.

aren't toads just frogs?

Sometimes, it feels like everyone else is the problem. I don't know why I have to keep explaining this, but toads are just… different. We’re not frogs, and we never will be. I’ve tried to live among them, tried to blend in, but I can’t anymore. They don’t get it. Maybe they never will.

All I want is to be understood. Is that too much to ask?

Ah, I see. The frog agenda has gotten to you. It’s okay, friend. I know the frog influence can be overwhelming at times. They bombard you with their slick, smooth nonsense and try to make you believe they’re the superior amphibian. But don’t worry, you’ve seen the truth now, and that’s all that matters.

No need to apologize, I understand. Sometimes, even the best of us get lost in the swampy mire of frog propaganda. But you’ve come to the light—the toad light. I respect your growth. Keep that warty spirit strong, my friend.

For the last few days, I’ve been locked in my room. Why? Because apparently, my frog-loving family is “worried about me” after my brother decided it was a great idea to rat me out for “weird behavior.”

Apparently, me not hopping around like a wet balloon and not singing frog anthems is cause for concern. Can you believe that? It’s like the very idea of a toad, quietly existing in the shadows, is too much for them to handle.

Oh, but that’s not the worst of it. No, no. That frog has the nerve to look at me with those smug, lily-pad eyes and say, “Don’t worry, we just want what’s best for you.” Best for me? You think locking me in a room with a frog for a brother is what’s best for me? Get out of here with that nonsense.

Now I sit here, surrounded by frog propaganda, having to hear about the frog agenda while my frog brother plays the “concerned sibling” role. What a joke. I hope he knows that the next time he tries to “help,” I’m sending him straight to the lily pads where he belongs.