I don’t know how long it’s been since then. It had to be long enough for me to run out of food and water supplies. Long enough that my last set of clothes to rip wear thin. Long enough for my shoes to grow holes and my feet gain blisters. But not long enough to stop grieving those I had lost—my brother, my father, my stepdad—no, it had been long enough to fully grieve nor forget them. Though I can feel their presence slowly fading into a memories…. I didn’t know why still survived—still tried to run from the horror of it all. Did it really matter, anyway? I know I’ll die, soon enough so is there any point in going on? Everything and everyone I love—loved—is long gone… Why should I have to suffer while they’re gone? Why do I have to…have to stay here….alone. I haven’t seen anything living for…well, I don’t know how long… I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if I did find anyone, they would leave or die eventually—just like the rest of them.