I’m writing in this journal that I found in an empty, unlocked house a few days ago. It was blank so I figured I should take it lest it goes to waste forever. I happened upon it as I searched through what looked like a younger girl’s room to find clothes to fit my ever-shrinking figure. I haven’t had any food in 2 days, and what I did eat last was a sorry excuse for a meal. I feel like I’m losing my mind slowly but surely. This journal almost feels like the first “person” I’ve talked to in a long time. I’ve been walking for days and haven’t seen another soul since the couple that picked me up off the highway. They didn’t talk much or tell me where they were going, but thankfully, they dropped me off at a safe house that had a small amount of canned fruits and vegetables and that I could shelter in for a while. I stayed until I ran out of food and had no choice but to continue my journey West. I left 3 days ago, sleeping in hidden spots in buildings and cars. I see a neighborhood in the distance and hope to find shelter (and something to eat) in an abandoned house again.

Maybe one day someone will find this journal and consider it an historical artifact from the days the world descended into chaos. Although, that would suggest that things eventually will get better. Wishful thinking. Goodnight for now.

Last night I ventured into the neighborhood and decided to find shelter along the outer edges. Wandering too far into the mass of houses made me nervous in case there were other occupants inside. Although I’m starving for human interaction, running into anyone now is a terrifying prospect. Who knows what they will be like or what they will want. And all I have to arm myself is a Swiss Army knife. After observing the house I selected for a while behind a nearby tree, I slowly and silently made my way inside, checked every room cautiously, and found a half eaten box of crackers in the kitchen. When I was confident I was by myself, I chose the master bedroom upstairs to sleep for the night. I lit a candle that I had found by the bookshelf downstairs after closing the curtains, making sure no light could be seen from the outside, and enjoyed my small dinner of crackers while I stared at the flame. Again, the silence of the world struck me as I focused on the light. No airplanes, no distant hum of cars. But every cricket chirp, flap of bird wings, or howl of a coyote is so sharp now against the backdrop of utter quiet. I feel like I have superhuman hearing now without the human noise to drown it out. It made me feel connected to my ancient ancestors and what they used to hear. What we are really supposed to hear.