June 10
I sit here in an old cot hearing the rain drizzle outside my dirty window, hitting the soaked landscape like tears from heaven. Heaven... I sometimes wonder if there is such a place anymore.
I remember when I first came to Fairview with my wife and two daughters. Life use to flourish here with evergreen trees, blue sky... and people. The nicest people you could ever meet. Ones that would support you with the best intentions. Now the city is just a void of darkness waiting to meet you with death on every block. If it isn't starvation that forces you to succumb, then it's at the hands of them. Knowing they'll eat any part of me while I bear to live with an empty stomach makes death by starvation seem like the best payback. If I can't eat... then neither will they.
I met a few people today coming from Dogg's Stockade. They looked military with the way they covered each other, the way they moved, and kept cautious with their guns. They said they were travelling, looking for materials to trade with the safe houses. Figured I would follow, provide my sledgehammer for assistance... maybe find a few cans of beans. My only source luxury.
Twenty minutes of searching vehicles and garbage bins like the homeless, finally we started searching the pour souls that didn't survive. I can't lie to myself and say I haven't taken what belonged to them... but I can say I have never looked down on them with disrespect or judgement like the few that I followed.
They made fun of this woman's remains... eaten and naked without a face. They laughed with jokes about her body and grabbed her from behind, playing a game of what actress she must have looked liked while they searched her. They were so desensitized by the consistant death, moral standings no longer resided in their minds. All I could do is watch with utter regret for not having the courage to say anything. I couldn't bear the depressed feeling that came over me and I just turned and left.
I now constantly think about what people would say about me if they ever found me. Would they show the same respect I gave the dead? Or would they play guessing games, treating my corpse like cattle while they take what I held dear to me? I'm so scared to die. I'm so scared to be forgotten with no legacy or record of my existance. Just a childless widow. I miss you so much, Megan.