Why on Earth would I even want to go downstairs? I've got everything I need up here. And I don't spend all my time in my room. Wait a minute... Oh. Ive spent like an hour and a half writing. Well whatever. What would I even do in the sitting room. The tv is broken. I've got my books, notebooks, iPhone, beanbag, he'll even a tv! Why would I want to go downstairs except for maybe food. Damn. Now I'm hungry now. But I'm not doing anything until I finish this fucking story. Which I should be doing... right...now... Sorry I've got to go.