March 8th

Posted: March 8, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dear journal,

Maybe I shouldn’t have told Andrew that I want to try again. Truth be told, I’m not even sure if the partially incoherent mumbling I sent his way got across that that is what I wanted.

He didn’t say anything when I was done blabbering at him. I kind of sat there for a minute or two, feeling really uncomfortable, and then I couldn’t take it anymore; I just got up and left him there. Maybe I should have figured out how I was going to say it before I just blurted things at him, especially in the middle of all this chaos. We are still stuck on the top floor of the house, and although the number of zombies is decreasing, we still aren’t safe yet.

We are all exhausted – maybe he didn’t even hear me. Maybe he drifted off while I was dithering and I didn’t notice because I was so nervous. I’m going to take some more time to think this over before I try talking to him again.

There were a few more explosions last night, although they were smaller than the first one. I think every one of us watched the window at some point or the other. I refrained from stopping anyone – clearly the zombies are going to be distracted by the explosives over the flutter of our curtains. I also didn’t really feel like being around everyone after my failed attempt to tell Andrew that maybe we should try again. I think I have napped more today than any day I can remember in recent history. I figured the stress would keep me awake when I barricaded myself in my room, but I’m so tired that as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out for the count.

I was able to scrap the leftovers together as a passable lunch, but I have no idea what we are going to do for dinner. No one seems to have much of an appetite, anyway, but I don’t want to send anyone else down stairs to forage for supplies. To be honest, I don’t know if anyone will even notice if I just stay in my room. Morale is pretty low, and I don’t know if I even feel up to doing anything about it.

I just came back from a round of the rooms, since Andrew is showering and I didn’t have to face him, and everyone seems okay with putting off dinner for a little while, so I’ve decided to lock myself in my room and have a bubble bath in my private en suite bathroom. I don’t even really care that it is a luxury and I am not sharing – I just need to relax. I really should have been smart enough to suppress my urge to cause even more stress during the worst situation I’ve been in since my Mother died. As much as it sucks to say it, this is even worse than losing Rick. He was a really good friend, but now I face the possibility of losing a houseful of people who need my help. Not to mention there were way less zombies in that attack than this one.

There should be enough hot water now that I heard Andrew switch off the other shower about ten minutes ago, so I’m going to start my bath and just try to let as much go for as long as I can before having to come back to this bleak reality. For as long as I can keep that bath warm, I can pretend that I live a normal, satisfying life.



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