Day 1: After the initial flush of panic subsided, I have determined that my first fears were correct: my head is indeed firmly stuck in this thing.
Day 2: Calling for help has done me no good. I spent most of the day, gently tapping and sounding out any weak points in this thing. There appear to be none. There is a slimy patch, though, which I regret having touched in the first place. I've made a mental note of that spot, in order to avoid it in the future.
Day 3: The peculiar sensation of being watched came over me today. I suspect that someone is out there, simply watching me as I blunder about with my head caught in this thing. They don't answer me when I ask for help. Did they put this thing on my head? I must investigate further.
Day 4: Is someone cooking bacon?
Day 5: I have stubbed my toe. Curious, though, is the fact that whatever it was, against which I stubbed my toe, cried out in pain. My suspicions of being watched have been confirmed. Whoever I kicked did not answer when I asked if he was all right. So I called him a jerk and tried to kick him again. I missed.
Day 6: Is this just a large vase? I think it might be. It's pretty durable, but thus far I have resisted punching myself in the head or slamming my skull against the floor to try and break it. I am quite hungry, now, and fear the corner of the room will no longer be habitable since I could not find anything that felt like a bathroom.
Day 7: I woke up this morning to see a crack of light. It seems the vase in which my head had become stuck was broken a bit by a fit in my restless sleep. I dreamt of dancing through a field with this thing stuck on my head. I could see, though, and the thing had become part of me. Upon seeing the crack of light, I rejoiced and cried out huzzah! Someone shushed me, citing that the game was on. I immediately set about tapping the crack with my knuckles until it widened. Eventually, the whole vase fell to pieces and I was free.
Day 8: It was explained to me that I drank too much, and upon being dared to stick my head into a vase, I did so with no thought to how I might extricate myself once thus inserted. I was the subject of laughter for some time before I ceased being humourous. That no one made any move to help me in the following week is a cause for some concern.
Day 9: Thinking of my dream, I have begun to miss my vase.
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