Undead

JOURNAL ENTRY: September 1,
The room being dark, and gloomy, constantly reminding me that the world is no longer how it used to be. Things about life that seemed of most importance, is now gone, friends, family, the one and you hold dear, and I, I have no one. This place reeking of the blood shed, and death is now the smell of safety, being my only safe haven. But like a pack of dogs in the wild, I know it won't last. Because everything has changed, and where safety is, danger is close to follow. Now it is the strongest who survive, those to weak either physically, or mentally don't last long. Sadly, all that I had cared for before it all hit the fan, were weak in one form or another, and are now long gone.
Even though I miss them all dearly, I am still relieved they don't have to go through this. But why do I, as I have said before, everyone I knew and loved are gone, so why do stay? What is there to live for, in the world of the dead. I sleep cradling a loaded gun, many time contemplating put it to my temple, and pulling the trigger. But anytime I get close, I can't, the only reason I am alive now is because I am lucky. Lucky and weak, weak because I am tied o this earth by the bonds of men. The way think, what we believe, and the hope that things will always get better. I am weak because I hold on to something as dumb as hope, but as hard as try, to convince myself that this is it, this is how it will be until, I am blessed with sweet death, all my attempts yield.