Howdy.
I'm in dire need of some encouragement tonight.
It's like my get up and go has... Got up and gone.
The only thing that's keeping me awake is the constant fear of failure. The inevitability of infection.
Surviving is one thing, but living is another. Have I missed out on the fun to be had because I'm such a wuss?
The very thing that's keeping me alive is actually degrading my existance?
How long will it be until I succumb to the virus? Years? Months? Days?
Every hour that goes by, a wooden barricade decays. A weary sentry grows wearier. A fortress loses integrity.
Someday, circumstance will kill us all. Old age is a prize reserved for the few people who took the least risks...
Well, is that a prize?
Eventual death after a boring life is somehow better than a fun life with an unfortunate end? Hmm, let me think.
Everybody wants to live forever. Failing that, as long as humanly possible. However, is longevity worth the sacrifices?
The answer is subjective. Personally, I'd like to slip off peacefully in my sleep after 90 years rather than a swift neck-bite after 19.
Let's be honest, nobody wants to die painfully, but I guess... It's like the candles.
It's the wick that burns twice as bright and half as long. My wick is looking to be miles long. (Worst place for a typo, eh?)
For example... For example... For... Oh, whatever. I'm not trying to condition you. I'm just in a bit of a strange mood...
Excitement and anxiety... Fear and joy... Impatience and regret... Living and dead...
Yeah, I'm contradicting myself.
Even now a whirlpool of emotion is tearing through my consious mind, with logic and reason lost to the vortex...
And that's quite enough self pity for one evening. I should probably man the hell up.
Hey, I'll probably see you tomorrow if I don't die of fatal tooth-inflicted flesh wounds. Or shame.
REMAIN INDOORS