This is my first time writing an entry on my computer. The date is 06/14/2012, and I wish that this was the beginning of a normal summer... No such luck. By now the infection has spread throughout most of the globe, and the virus itself has mutated and adapted to reanimate the corpses for longer, raise their violence level, and in a few cases the body would function for several minutes after the head was removed. I fear my time is running out, for my sanity is slowly fading, and all I am able to hear are the growls and sounds of the undead scoring a meal. These days are haunting me with the faces and the desolation of people I failed miserably in trying to save. Hope is non-existent. Food is becoming difficult to locate. And Survivors are merely being used as bait for unknowing attractions like myself before I caught onto their schemes. They can think just above primal instinct level, and it scares the hell out of me. I no longer fear death, but the possibility of survival is minimal and decreasing by the day. Most normal people would pray and be thankful for another day of life. I'm thankful, But I hardly feel the obligation to do so. The chaos and illusion of safety bring death and false hope. Painstaking lonliness grips my heart and my mind. Maybe if i had someone to spend the end of the world with, It wouldn't be so bad. I miss the days when I could just go to my mother or my friends' house. Just a simple escape from the everyday bullshit. Now the only companion I have is a mouse named Jerry. How Jerry aquired his name is also how he came to be my friend. One day, about two months ago, I was searching a small store for food and other supplies when I saw him run out of the wall. To be honest it gave me a small scare, but I recovered quickly and gave him a small chunk of some bread. As if to thank me he runs up to my boot and squeaks. I pick him up and so on the story goes. He's been with me every since. This is the end of my first entry. I hope I can make it to write another one.