The Man That Watched It Go [A Short Story]

Log Entry: 38

PERSONAL LOG ENTRY: 38
CHARLES F. KING
SEPTEMBER 6TH, 2089
LUNAR STATION (USLS)
OCCUPATION: 1
DAYS SINCE ARRIVAL: 289
TIME: 4:04PM (EST TIME)

Everyone is dead. I am the last remaining human of planet Earth. I feel so pointless. Why am I the last person to go? I wish I died with the rest of them. I wish I never had to see Earth burn in flames like that. I wish I went down when I had the chance. Now, Miranda is dead. I knew she would be, but the impact finally hit me. And I can't stop crying. All I wanted was to read something from her. Everyday I hoped she would send me something, but she never did. This is unfair. I thought I was doing the right thing coming up here, but it turns out it just made it worse. Should I even try to live? What's the point? I could pull that Airlock right now, and all my pain will go away in an instant. Why am I still doing these entries? Who are these for anyway? Maybe it's to talk to myself up here since I'm so lonely. I think I'm slowly turning insane. I should be pulling that lock before I get bombarded with chunks of Earth. I can't take this anymore. All the pain I had to go through, the stress, the shame, I'm ending it all right now. Finally, I'll be relieved from all this torture. This is my last entry. Goodbye, cruel world. I think I understand that saying now.