Godzilla woke at 8:37AM and knew, because of the time, that there would be no new emotionally significant emails. Godzilla knew, by now, not to be disappointed by no new emotionally significant emails at 8:37AM. "The real time for concern," Godzilla thought, "is around 11AM." By then, Godzilla knew, his east coast friends would have been awake for some time, his west coast friends would most likely be awake, and the jobs at which he applied would have checked their email accounts and responded to suitable applicants. Godzilla sighed, turned on his back, looked at the ceiling, and worried about running out of money. Godzilla did some mental calculations with figures he had seen from checking his bank account online the other day and decided that if he didn't find a job within a week he was fucked. Godzilla let out a soft roar, which sounded more like a depressed and exasperated Chewbacca.
Four hours later, Godzilla was sitting on a riverbank in the small forest that Ravenna Park surrounded, crying softly and making quiet whimpering sounds. Godzilla knew that he should be looking for jobs, but felt paralyzed by the anxiety of not having any. He had gotten so used to his days on the riverbank in the forest that doing anything else made him feel either extremely uncomfortable or like he wanted to destroy Seattle and all the people he had given resumes to that hadn't called him back. Godzilla felt a terrible despair. He considered ripping the Space Needle from the ground, holding its base while spinning around repeatedly and using his momentum to hurl it far into the Puget Sound. Godzilla felt excited while considering this sequence of events, so he stood up and began walking towards the Space Needle. But as he approached the top of a hill and the Space Needle came into view, Godzilla was overcome with a feeling of apathy. He fell on his side and obliterated some pine trees. He lay there and stared at the horizontal tree trunks, moving only to blink, and a tear came from his eye.
Godzilla felt such a sense of apathy that he lay in this position for two weeks, not even moving to defecate, hardly any thoughts passing through his brain at all. Toward the end of the second week, Godzilla felt a slight excitement about the fact that he would have, possibly, fifty new emails to check when he decided to go home again. Only when Godzilla began to feel extreme urges to check his emails that were as strong as any intense physical pain he had ever felt did he stand up, bathe in the nearby river, and walk home.