Carl Grimes Imagines

Imagine: Same Person, Different Place(2)

IMAGINE: Same Person, Different Place (2) : Tell Me

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Sunday, June 18th, 2015

It's been around a month since Mom and I came to Alexandria. The true vacation, except we aren't trying to escape boring lives, we're trying to escape reality. So far, I think I'm doing a hell of a good job.

For the past couple days, I noticed Mom acting more unusual than she usually is. She stays in bed all day, doesn't come down for meals with me, and rarely steps outside the house. I should be worried. I know I should, but I feel like I'm trying to. I don't even know if I have a mom anymore, just the shell of someone who once was. This woman in my house wasn't the one I grew up with, but someone who merely is the scraps of her, the rest taken by the world outside of Alexandria's walls.

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Monday, June 19th, 2015

Carl and I both taught bow and arrow today, as usual. Recently though, I've been... Distracted. I don't have all the details on it, but I know what's causing me the distractions. Carl.

I feel embarrassed. I still do even writing it inside here.

Normally, I could show them how to shoot no problem considering Carl taught me before. But I couldn't, I was lost somewhere. When he instructed the audience today, my eyes were glued to his face. No matter how weird that sounds, it's true. I remember wanting to memorize the way his cheekbones were formed perfectly on his face, the way his eyes always met everyone else's. I was in a trance.

I didn't hear him call my name any time, I just know he looked me straight in the eyes, confused with moving lips. I caught on real fast after that, especially after a couple laughs could be heard from the crowd.

I can feel the heat coming to my face just writing about it, reliving the embarrassing memory. He was making me lose focus, and I hated that. I hated the way he made me feel weak, as if there was a sense of disconnection to reality. I haven't felt this way in years, I thought I lost that part of myself when the end started. Could it really be Carl who would bring it back to me?

There's a knock on the door. I know it's Carl, wish me luck. Bye.

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Monday, August 20th, 2015.
(Two months later)

I'm so stupid. Why'd I bring this? I had a million things to bring, and I brought this journal shit??

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Tuesday, August 21st, 2015.

My legs are so sore, and, believe me, I'm sweating so hard. I can feel the droplets in my hair, sliding against my scalp as I run.

I forgot to explain, but I don't have a lot of time. Carl's next to me. But we're resting--just briefly. I shouldn't be wasting my time in here, but I'm afraid this may be my last entry.

To anyone who may find this, I'm not okay. I'm dead. Carl and I died; we died with aching limbs and dirt-covered faces. With tired eyes and saddened hearts. We both lost our family, and we both lost our sanctuary. Alexandria is gone. The walls have crumpled, the walkers have swarmed. The Saviors have won.

If someho--

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Thursday, August 23rd, 2015.

Oh my God. I'm alive. I'm okay.

The sky has turned over its vibrant colors for a set of night's shades. My eyes are so droopy, my body exhausted, but I feel like I need to write in here.