March 17th

Posted: March 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dear journal,

I barely left my room today, and to be honest, I am having a hard time even bothering to write this entry. I haven’t showered, I didn’t go for a run and I left the act of finding food to the tenants’ discretion because I really just don’t feel up to doing anything but trying to sleep through the whole day.

I lied and said I thought I was coming down with a cold, but I know that isn’t it. I feel utterly depressed with the recent events, and considering Nick hasn’t told me anything to the contrary, I assume Andrew is still missing. There really doesn’t seem to be any good reason to leave this bed. Ellen brought me up a sandwich and some soup when she heard that I was ill, but I barely put a dent in them. I don’t even feel like getting up to go for a run, which I usually crave. It would be so much easier if this were a common cold and I felt better after a couple of days of rest, but somehow I don’t think that is going to be the case.

I miss my Mother. I have always felt like a little part of me is misplaced since she died, but rarely do I sit and think about how much I completely miss her. It wasn’t fair that she died so young, and it wasn’t fair that I had to go on without her when I hadn’t even finished high school yet. How many other people have to go on without their parents? I have a house full of orphans, and the problem extends much further than the walls of my house. I’m not usually so obsessed with the utter depression of our life style, but after the recent attack, it is really hitting me and I might have no other choice than to completely shut down my emotions in order to keep on living, if you can even call what we do each day ‘living’.

Even though I have no idea where life will take me, I know I have to keep going with it. I hate that that means I have to constantly be afraid that another person around me will be killed in a random attack by a creature that shouldn’t exist. I was led to believe that people are supposed to be able to wake up from their nightmares, but this one has been going on for as long as I can remember – which is years, months, weeks and days too long – longer than anyone deserves to live in fear, terror and depression.

I’ve napped a few times today, mostly to pass the time and pass this bleak mood, but I keep waking up and remembering that the woman who used to sleep in this room is long dead, that the boy who slept on its floor not long ago is missing, and that countless lives that used to meander outside my house have been cut short, and I have no good reason for any of it. I see no reward in the future for surviving, just like I see no reason that justifies them dying.

I think I’ll just try to eat more of the sandwich and soup, and maybe I’ll be able to go back to sleep. If I make the room completely dark, perhaps I can escape this hell until morning. I have faint memories of liking Saturday mornings when I was very young – there where cartoons on the television and I was free from going to school or getting attacked in the streets or in my home. Now it is just another day where I could die, or someone I have grown attached to could die, or someone I don’t even know but have seen walking in the streets for years could die.

I just want to sleep until this whole epidemic is fixed and I can breathe without the thought that it might be the last time.



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