I work an average 9-5 office job. Always coming back home to my little condo in the city. I filled my condo with modern furniture of all sorts. Anything I liked in the magazine, anything I thought defined me I bought. Suddenly, my life changed. I couldn't sleep. The doctors told I couldn't die from insomnia, but I could feel my body rotting.

I started going to support groups, ones that had diseases I didn't even have. Like cancer and testicular cancer. I found that if I cry, I sleep. So that was my routine after work. Until another fake showed up. Marla singer. I couldn't cry, which meant I couldn't sleep.

On a certain work flight, I met a man named Tyler Durden. He made and sold soap. How interesting. He also had another job. Rolling films.

I had just came home from work, except... my house was blown to pieces. The only thing left was the sad condiments all over the side walk. My whole life was destroyed that night. I decided to call Tyler. We drank, fought, and eventually I came to live with him. We were like bestfriends.

Tonight me and him were hitting golf balls into the old factories that were across from our torn up, almost abandoned looking house.