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To whomever happens upon this journal, I write to you so you may know of our tragic last days. We were the tribe of Atlantis, a once prosperous people with great walls and bountiful fields of carrots. I was born too my late mother Esmeralda and raised by my Uncle Lucifer, who always resented his name so I called him Luke. Early on I took to carpentry and basket making. I enjoyed nothing more than an afternoon spent building a cart, and filling it with freshly made baskets so the carrot farmers had a place to store there harvests. I never played much with my Nephews, nor my nieces for I had none. Strange, though I thought nothing of it. As we grew older, and our parents passed my brother took up the carrot crown. He tended the fields whilst my other brother took up bakery, and I spent most of my later years doing chores for the both of them. Our sister did not bare many children, and those she did died before leaving infancy. Quite concerning as our sister was the last female of our tribe, and she was nearing the years where she could not bare anymore children. Till finally the day came, a miracle child was born. But, to our dismay it too was a boy. We soon realized our sister would not bare another child, many of us looked to the carrot king for leadership but found none. He fell into a depression, "whats the point of it all if we are to become dust in history, too be forgotten" he cried out. I tended the fields in my brothers absence while he went on mad hunts for women in the wilderness. Each day coming home empty handed, we knew our time was short. Our sister passed first, it was a sad day but I can feel that I am too be next. My brother still searches day and night, but I know it is but a pipe dream. I write this now in my final hours, not as a biography but as a plea. Don't forget us.

tl;dr we kept having male babies, and eventually ran out of women and died out