Day 200
It has been sometime since I recorded any findings in relation to the spiders with whom I have shared my existence for the past eight months, partly due to my enforced retreat from their basement territory. Not too long ago, their behaviour became overtly aggressive, and so I have attempted to barricade the main entrance to their lair, and secured myself within one of the smaller rooms above it, the only one with an operational door lock.

The other reason is that I have been recovering from a minor operation, which I was forced to conduct myself, without the aid of anaesthetic. Even if I did have any anaesthetic or surgical tools, I couldn't afford to be less than diligent in my work, so anaesthetic was out. Surgical tools are all well and good, but, although it may be becoming old and rusty, I still trust my pen knife to do the job just as well.

The procedure itself was elementary enough, a simple amputation of a non-vital organ. I began to notice a thick, glue like substance forming on my tongue, and was forced to accept that it had become infected through constant toxin ingestion.

Day 300
Another century of days comes and goes: it seems like so long since I escaped here. At some stage since my last entry, I attempted to return from whence I came: that from which I originally was fleeing seems a fate far worse than the one I now face. However, in the time since I arrived from the larger mine system, a cave-in has occurred, blocking any further progress. I was forced to return and accept whatever end life has in store for me.
I still hear my aggressive little friends scratching on the door to my cell.

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