It's so cold right now... it's always cold, though. The sun is shining, but I don't feel it anymore. The worst thing about this whole business isn't knowing if someone is dead or not - it's not knowing, and hoping for one excruciating second that they're surviving somewhere. It's seeing a person in the distance that reminds you of someone from the past, and then they turn around and you have to run. Always running, running....
You can't even trust those who are alive anymore. Even the most trustworthy among them would shoot you in the back for something good enough. People always thought that if there was a "zombie apocalypse", bloodthirsty, nightmarish creatures would be everywhere, ready to kill in a second. They actually die out pretty quickly after a few years, though. The reality is emptiness. Walking through cities, fields, mansions and shacks. The worst places are towns. They look like everyone just got spirited away, with everything as it used to be. You can almost feel eyes on you as you walk down the street. I want to say I hope to survive, but that assumes there's an end to this. Maybe there will be, one day. Maybe pigs will fly, too. Who knows what the future holds?
The Road Not Taken (By Robert Frost)
<p>TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, </p><p>
</p><p>And sorry I could not travel both </p><p>And be one traveler, long I stood </p><p>
</p><p>And looked down one as far as I could </p>To where it bent in the undergrowth;
<p></p><p>Then took the other, as just as fair, </p><p>
</p><p>And having perhaps the better claim, </p><p>
</p><p>Because it was grassy and wanted wear; </p><p></p><p>Though as for that the passing there </p><p></p>Had worn them really about the same, <p></p><p>And both that morning equally lay </p><p></p><p>In leaves no step had trodden black. </p><p>
</p><p>Oh, I kept the first for another day! </p><p>
</p><p>Yet knowing how way leads on to way, </p><p></p>I doubted if I should ever come back.<p></p><p>I shall be telling this with a sigh </p><p>
</p><p>Somewhere ages and ages hence: </p><p></p><p>Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— </p><p></p><p>I took the one less traveled by, </p>And that has made all the difference.
A Gray Sleep
'Twixt heavenly nocturne and gray morn
Lies an hour of stillness, depraved and torn
Unnatural it is, to one such as I
Whose heart is filled joy, and life
To never stop thinking, to never truly rest,
Content within me, at my peaceful best
In this dark hour, truly still, truly silent
Alien to my nature, pervasively quiet
Motion unknown, my heart's motion scared
That this dark night will never cease
And leave me, a bright speck of dust
Truly alone, to survive as I must
In this place where insanity is born
'Twixt heavenly nocturne and gray morn