The fire glows and dances before me, lighting the up the night and chasing away shadows. Faint heat warms my cheeks and the crackle of the fresh killed squirrel echos in the still silence.

The world crashed, humanity killed by by some disease the politicians told its citizens not to worry about. Fucking thing spread like wild fire and they didn’t do a goddamn thing to stop it.

I turn the skinned squirrel, slowly roasting it, nearly burning it to a chrisp. I never did my research on the safety of wild rodent meat; of course, the freakish disease didn’t kill me, I’m sure whatever this tree rat has, or had, wouldn’t either.

Pulling the meat from the fire, I jam the stick in the dirt and allow it to cool in the chill breeze.

This is stupid. What the hell am I even doing?

There is nothing left anymore. I have traveled city to city, state to state; I found no one. I told myself when this started I’d find someone and we will rebuild civilization. Fight whatever our previous government decided to cook up in their labs and we will get over this, just like any other virus society faced.

How naive I was back then. I woke up bushy tailed every morning in hopes to find a fresh face that was also immune to this sickness.

What. Fucking. Bullshit.

The only thing I found is shit, literal and figurative.

Government is gone, hospitals burnt down, even the CDC—the very fucking people that was organized for this, was washed out. All that shit they kept in their drawers and this is what takes them out?!

I’m not sure whether to be impressed or call it pathetic. Either we made something so strong, we wiped out our own species and every other species on this plant, or it was something so little, like the whole flea off the rat, and we were too stupid to understand how to cure it. Had this also come from a small insect?

Either way, what’s done is done; can’t really undo and try to fix time that already passed. Someone over there said ‘oops apocalypse’ now here I sit, staring into fire, burnt squirrel at my side and drowning in isolation. Assumably the last human alive.

It’s been about three years now, I think, time has no meaning anymore; no point in keeping up with it. I’ve gone through three winters, it’s the only way I could track it; not like anyone is making calendars.

Damn, I didn’t think this whole “let me single-handly rebuild the world” What if I found someone. Two people can’t put 8 billion humans back in the world, especially if that other person is a man.

Though three years of finding nothing but wasted cities and corpses, I’m doubtful finding anyone, let alone a female to try to repopulate; then again, that also provides an issue. Not to spell it out in detail but, I’m not really willing to recreate the first part of the Bible like Adam and Eve.

My stomach turns at the thought and the dead squirrel next to me no longer looked appetizing.

Should’ve I died with the rest? Was me being alive today some kind of mistake? Clearly the world was meant to be reset; whip out the infection, aka humans, and the host can thrive, aka Earth. Where does that leave me in this equation?

Sighing, I lay on my back to stare up at the night sky; the stars shine bright without the light pollution. As they dance and twinkle, I find a smile form on my lips. Nature has taken over and the rivers and ocean run clear, the air quality made me high; it filled and satisfied my lungs with its purity.

Everything was simple now, I didn’t have to worry about politics or laws, work or bills.

If only I wasn’t so damn lonely!

Tears sprang to my eyes, and a tightened punched into my chest. I’m all fucking alone; no one to love or experience this new world with. They were all gone and I’m left behind. I’ve questioned this for years, I’ve shout up to the sky until I lost my voice. I’ve prayed, sang, and lost my mind trying to figure this out.

For three whole years I wondered this new Earth and to be perfectly honest, I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to save something that can’t be saved, I’m tired of being alone and only having my own mind to talk to.

I can sleep for hours and find no rest, I can do nothing all day and night, yet somehow be so damn exhausted.

Sitting up, I grab my pack and rummage around until my fingers find the orange prescription bottle I found months ago.

I stare at the white pills, I always said I’d go out with a bang; but I’m so fucking tired. I want to be at the place everyone else went, the place I wasn’t allowed to go to. Maybe I can force my way into that place, I can be back with my friends and family.

I’m done, I’m done trying; whatever silent mission I have been assigned to by being the last man alive, I failed.

*Author’s Note: If you are going through depression or suicidal thoughts, please know you are not alone. Despite what you are going though or the pain you feel, you are loved and important, it will get better.*