I am feeling fatalistic today.
Managed to make it home, don't ask me how. I just ran. I'm not sure how long I can stay here... but for the time being I think I can rest. My apartment remained surprisingly unmolested but after this I don't really know where to go.
I've long known that sooner or later this was going to happen. I was a big horror movie buff as a kid. When I was younger, I couldn't help but wonder: Would it be better to be one of the first or the last to die?
Being the first, you are saved the suffering of seeing your loved ones go, the anguish of living in fear, not knowing what will happen. You won't have to grieve or let your imagination run rampant with the seemingly endless, painful ways you could meet your demise, vividly portrayed by the corpses you encounter or the deaths you witness. But all you are spared will instead be experienced by your loved ones.
I've always been a martyr, so I guess I would rather suffer the grief, anxiety and pain knowing that those I care about are at peace. After all, the dead feel no pain.
Zombies though, thats a whole other level of grotesque, isn't it? I mean corpses are only pounds of dead flesh, not animated. Its hard enough seeing your loved ones dead peacefully, even more so messily but to see them walk about, reach for you, their vacant eyes filled only with the desire to eat your flesh... Its a little much to bare.
I don't know if anyone else is alive. My family is all out of town and my friends... well I can't contact any of them. Some of them live in the building, so after I gather some things and get some rest I will try to see what happened. I'm not sure I want to know though.
I'm sort of wondering what the point is. I live, and for what? Unlikely hopes? To rebuilt the future? In the meantime there is no end in sight... You don't even know if anyone will be left to bury the corpses.
Prime examples of the life and death impulses...