They say, everyday holds the possibility of miracles, but I don’t think this is what they meant. Walking the streets with a mask firmly placed on my face I look around at the people around me. It’s truly sad, horrific even to be able to see just how many people are effected by the virus.

The worst is that your age changes how you look, the infants the most innocent of them all are blue, a sickly blue grey with bloodshot eyes as they fight to get even a single breath in. You don’t hear the suffering but you see it on their face they probably won’t survive.

Teens and young adults they look like rats with large mushrooms growing out their back, drool and mucous dripping down their flushed faces. Every cough they try to hide causes a plume of spores you erupt around them. They truly look like the plague rats we joked about.

Middle aged adults they look the most normal, that is until they cough. They age so quickly they look so tired, so weak. It won’t be long until they withered and grey and laying on their own death bed.

The most heart breaking of them all is the elderly. They’re not even whole anymore. Rotted corpses with bloody bones poking through thin flesh. They’re the closest to death, already rotted and nothing to help. I can never look to long at them it’s both sickening and heartbreaking.

A cure is what we need. Better precautions is what we needed. Less selfish people is what we needed. None of that is what we have and now I have to walk the streets with the knowledge I’m watching people die of a virus that could have been over had we taken it more seriously.