• November 1st, whatever year it is

I woke up in the middle of the road again, my head resting against the asphalt as if it were my mother’s legs. This time, there wasn’t a second before I realized I was terribly alone. And that it was still the end of the world. And that I could do nothing to fix it.

Sometime in the 2nd grade, my teacher told us to throw away all of our broken crayons and I asked “why?”, she replied, “because they’re broken.” to which I confidently stated, “but they still work.”

It’s a distant memory that lives in the back of my mind. This morning, if it was morning, I reached to pull my cover over me but it wasn’t there. What does that mean? I don’t know.

• November 2nd

I’m realizing that there is no reason to live. Sorry to start off so straightforward, if you wondered, it is still the end of the world and I am still alone. I feel like there is something I should do. There is a reason why I’m still here, right? Or am I just so useless to the world that nobody cares if I live or die?

In the dreams that I rarely have, I see myself as a child looking out of a window, looking at me now.

You know what? Forget this. I don’t know why I’m writing this. Who’s going to read it? This doesn’t matter.

• November 3rd

Sacrifice. One word: sacrifice. That’s what I have to do. I slept in a bed today, not my bed, and I slept with my head hanging off the side of it. The dream I had was like no other. It’s true, I don’t matter. It’s true that I was invisible and alone far before the world ended but I… how do I explain this?

It’s sacrifice. I was dreaming and I heard someone speaking to me, like I was awake, and I couldn’t completely make out the words but I heard “one shall sacrifice themselves”

That’s me. I’m sure of it. What if I have to die so that everyone else can come back? I have to kill myself, basically. There is no reason to live! I was right, my only reason is to die.

I have to die so that other people can live. I’m fine with that. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m fine with dying. I don’t care about being known. I don’t care if nobody knows my name.

I just fixed the end of the world, didn’t I? I didn’t think it could be fixed. Anyway, I better get going. If this didn’t work, then this notebook will stay in the middle of the road and slowly disintegrate with only me having memory of it. If this did work, then you’ll be reading this right now.

So, goodbye. I still don’t know what year it is.

- Anonymous