(no subject)
I'm almost used to the quiet, the eerie, dead quiet of what used to be a somewhat bustling urban center, though it was in squalor before they came and wiped out even the friendly bipolar man that frequented my coffee shop at the end of the block. I guess diseased brain tastes as good as regular brain; zombies do not discern much when it comes to such things.
I shouldn't joke, but humor is all I have these days to keep me going. I fear the darkness, the quiet, and the solitude. Before this happened, I craved a moment alone, a moment to collect my thoughts because my job was so fast-paced, saving the world one misdemeanor client at a time. There was always somebody I had to talk to, had to see, papers I had to file in one court or another.
Now, I sit in my abandoned coffee shop with batteries I stole from the CVS next door, trying valiantly to use the ghost of a Wi-Fi signal to reach out to you, the other survivors. So again I post here to see if anybody will comment and let me know where you are hiding so that I can possibly have human contact.
It has been awhile, and I grow weary and lonely. I am saddened every morning when I awaken to see another dead body, and sadder still when I must do what I have to do to ensure it does not rise from the dead, hungry for blood. It was more than I bargained for in law school, this zombie extermination technique I picked up from the YouTube.
I have heard, dear readers, that what is left of the government has declared martial law. They plan to firebomb cities and incinerate the walking dead from the night sky, when they quest for food. When they quest for me, and quest for the dogs that share my stale scones and semi-rotted raspberries for smoothies.
jadeddiva, I am so glad I heard from you earlier. I think it helps me through the day, and hopefully the night.
Please, if there's anybody out there, let me know immediately. I can't waste another day crying and checking Instant Messenger until it grows dark and I use the flashlights to keep them away.
I shouldn't joke, but humor is all I have these days to keep me going. I fear the darkness, the quiet, and the solitude. Before this happened, I craved a moment alone, a moment to collect my thoughts because my job was so fast-paced, saving the world one misdemeanor client at a time. There was always somebody I had to talk to, had to see, papers I had to file in one court or another.
Now, I sit in my abandoned coffee shop with batteries I stole from the CVS next door, trying valiantly to use the ghost of a Wi-Fi signal to reach out to you, the other survivors. So again I post here to see if anybody will comment and let me know where you are hiding so that I can possibly have human contact.
It has been awhile, and I grow weary and lonely. I am saddened every morning when I awaken to see another dead body, and sadder still when I must do what I have to do to ensure it does not rise from the dead, hungry for blood. It was more than I bargained for in law school, this zombie extermination technique I picked up from the YouTube.
I have heard, dear readers, that what is left of the government has declared martial law. They plan to firebomb cities and incinerate the walking dead from the night sky, when they quest for food. When they quest for me, and quest for the dogs that share my stale scones and semi-rotted raspberries for smoothies.
jadeddiva, I am so glad I heard from you earlier. I think it helps me through the day, and hopefully the night.
Please, if there's anybody out there, let me know immediately. I can't waste another day crying and checking Instant Messenger until it grows dark and I use the flashlights to keep them away.