Not to much is to be remembered on this day. Too many death's to count and not enough people left to count them. It happened almost overnight, North America's complete and utter annihilation. It sent the worlds economy into a downspiral, it caused mass hystaria and people just up and got violent. There were riots and rapes for the first few weeks, then mass murders. Eventually, other countries moved in for take over. But when they saw what a shithole they made of the place, they packed up and went home, leaving us to die in the mess that they made for us. Seem's like the rest of the world just got sick of our shit. Not that I can really blame them, North America's been pissing the world off since the day it was givin its independence. But even having said that, it doesnt make it any easier here. My day basically consists of killing, scavenging, and then a few hours of rest before I repeat the same routine. But I decided to start a journal to pass the time in this shit heap of a town. So i guess if im gonna do this, i better start at the beginning of my story. So for me, i guess it all started the day my dad killed himself.
