'I planned on writing this back when things were… a bit clearer. Before the haziness, before I felt weak, before I lost sight in my intentions; and I swear I had intentions at some point. Without any recollection of the whys, it almost seems silly to even be writing in this old little notebook at all.
(Illegible sentence)
There was an abundance of trivial issues at the time, like who's going to pay the rent, does this dress shirt go with these pants, and the ever so reoccurring (in my life) issue, don't forget to cancel that lost credit card. We were a culmination of generations who had lost sight in survival. Instead, we opted to blindly follow the newest trends and gadgets. It was fucking pathetic, but we didn't know better at the time. We just all wore our half – assed smiles, and made sure to kiss the hands so "generous" to us, but never bite.
Look at how well that went for us, especially after the initial outbreak. Hell, I still can recall where I was when I saw my first carrier. The way he just stood in the corner of that bar, violently shaking and mumbling bits and pieces of half formed sentences still strikes a nerve every time I think back to it.
God damn does this hurt. I always knew it would hurt, but god damn does this really hurt. I guess I can cross off 'getting shot in the abdomen' off my bucket list. I think I might have even dozed off since the last line I wrote in this thing. That's a good sign, right? I feel my eyes getting heavier; it's a bit different than feeling tired. That's for sure.'
He slid his gloved hand over the cover of the now closed leather-bound notebook. It was the first intimate piece Julian had found scavenging since he had come across that rusted locket floating in a stream. A locket he carries around in his old man's military jacket; for reasons too complicated to explain to anyone but himself. After all, this locket housed nothing of specific interest to Julian, just a picture of a father and daughter, her arms around him, both of them smiling. Despite all that, he still kept it close to him. For a moment, Julian stands still in the sunlight with the newly found book in hand; the combination of leather and heat felt nice against his skin. All around him, birds chirp in trees, unseen to the eye; painting a vision of serenity that he had missed all winter. No longer do the thoughts of bloodshed in the name of survival haunt him, the voices of friends he's lost or fears losing, or the constant thought of death. No, in this moment there is nothing but peace.
But all good things must eventually meet their end.