Dear diary.

dear faithful diary,

What the actual shit happened today?

Even I, a woman who is supposed to be a damn good scientist, has no explanation for the fact that the dead are walking. And killing. The dead are literally walking, not as ghosts, not as friendly  neighbourhood vampires, but as crazy ass zombies. Yes, zombies. How do you describe something you have no words for? Scientists are supposed to explain what seems to be feats of magic with plausible, empirical fact. Not try desperately to fathom the works of fiction that now walk the earth, killing and eating and ripping and...

God.

Geneva is dead, Matthew is dead, all of my co-workers, family and friends are dead. London is ravaged with insane, deranged dead things which will tear you to shreds and eat the flesh all While you lie in a screaming heap, fully conscious, fully able to feel it. They have killed so many. They have killed Geneva of all people, if I know one thing, I know that I am nothing without my sister, without my best friend.

How do I relate to you the pain that I feel through every atom of my being? 

The impossible has occurred, and I know this shelter will never last. For all we know, the illness spreads through the air, for all we know it could be spread through tiny fungal spores or- god, even I don't know.

This kind of thing is what we have disproven and disproven and it actually happened. I have no one left; No one left to care for, to love, to protect, to cherish. What is living without that? I can't live without that.

No one can.

So, my faithful diary, this is my last goodbye.

Maybe I'll see them in heaven, if there is one.

ill know soon enough,

Goodbye.