these writings are dedicated to whomever may find them. My name is Arnel Saric, I'm the surviving citizen of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Once I had a friend, a real close friend of mine. We were friends since forever. First steps, kindergarten, elementary school. Disgusting war during the nineties. High school, first love, first desperation, first joint and first hangover. We've been through a lot.
I was there when he passed away. When he was killed. He passed away, came back. I shot him in the head. No tears shed. It was something we've agreed to do to each other in case Super Flu happens to us.
What you are about to read are my own translations of his own diary, the diary he funnily called AntiZombie: Diary of The Survivor. I will stick to this title, because he indeed was a survivor, one of the rarest, he lived life to the fullest when there was no hope of seeing tomorrow's sunrise. He still lives in my mind and the mind of his family and friends.
I've decided to add few notes on my own, and I will make them bold if necessary. I will not correct his story, it would be a blasphemy, I will just make small corrections just to make you more accustomed to our surroundings, to our story. If you're living in USA, Mexico, Canada, United Kingdom, wherever, you may have your own story. This one is his. And mine, in a way.
This diary never had any dates marked, so I will not post any dates in the translation, too. I will leave original names of the characters and will not go for the English naming substitute. Also, my friend never wrote his name anywhere in the diary, nor his name is written anywhere, so I will leave his real name out of it. Please, respect that and do not ask to know the name of this brave man, of my true friend. Other grammar mistakes that I make, please forgive me.
We're living in a world we've created for ourselves. It's not a coincidence. What you're about to read are sane man memories, sane man lost in the insane, sick world.
Hopefully, you will enjoy AntiZombie: Diary of The Survivor.
Do you remember Facebook?
Me... like it was yesterday. It appears to me that just yesterday we were sitting at our desks, using computers, linking videos off Youtube, hanging out in the pubs and drowning ourselves in alcohol to the point when pub owners would kick us out. I remember so clearly that hamburger at Trovač's (eng. for Poisoner, slang term for a local fast food store, nonexistent today), flu that we use to get while waiting for the first trolley bus in the early morning to take us home. Today? No more pubs, no more trolley buses, no more Facebook. THERE'S FUCKING NOTHING. Only the god damned war, but not the one based on our names, we're no longer Serbs, Croats or Bosniaks, we don't slaughter each other in the God's name anymore because we've came to conclusion God abandoned us long time ago, just when he let hellish hordes to chew us in half.
Bosnia is in the war again, and this time, not just Bosnia, but the whole world. whole united, so called democratic Europe. all the fathers of Dayton Agreement. We all went to hell and we are ones to be held responsible.
In this moments when there's no electricity, no water, no food, when every day could be the last one, all I have is this typewriter and bunch of paper. Therefore, I will leave a trace of my existence, although I've lost all hope someone will ever get to read this. But, I shall write, I'll write because it's my saving grace, against all this madness I'm part off.