**Disclaimer: Mi-Hyun’s journal is entirely from her IC perspective, where she deals with her innermost conflicts and emotions. It is where she gets them out. It can be intense and emotional, because that is how Mi-Hyun is under the surface. Keep in mind she has her own trauma and triggers from the world too. None of it is intended to be meant or taken OOC. I like to fully immerse myself into my character and her world, so this is one way to do it. I very much like realistic, deep and detailed RP and storylines. Especially with it’s own drama and multiple layers. Characters and their imperfections.
Mi-Hyun’s Journal is written in an old diary by hand. She often leaves it with her things where ever she stores them. If anyone ever wants to get a hold of it or go through her things, IM me and let me know.
Knowing someone’s innermost thoughts can be a double edged sword though, since her journal does not have the same politeness or sugar coating Mi-Hyun does! It is literally an open book to the world through her eyes. And it is sometimes funny, and sometimes cruel, but it is all Mi-Hyun. The diary also reflects her current state of mind and psychological health, which is something I am keeping track of along with her physical health. I keep track of everything on my characters. It adds a new layer for me to consider her mental health condition along with her physical health condition.**
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Oᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 9ᴛʜ, Tʜᴇ Mᴏɴᴇʏ.
~The anger came back when I woke up.
Dreams filled with the people I try to treat. Try to save.
Nightmares of them turning into undead. Losing them anyways.
The screams of people dying.
The haunting sights and sounds and smells of decay.
The grief from losing my family.
Depression… No. This is rage now.
I started with yoga. It wasn’t enough.
I wrapped one of the building supports in blankets and used it for kickboxing.
I started with a few routines, which turned into an endless assault which didn’t end until I was breathless and could no longer stand, covered in sweat.
Two hours passed and I barely noticed.
My body is sore. My muscles. My fists, my shins, my feet, my elbows.
My heart pounds.
It doesn’t feel weak anymore.
I feel strength. Conviction.
Sometimes I feel a little stiff, but I still have all the speed and power that I did when I was younger. And my agility.
I feel old. But my body is still as fit as ever. Even if I am a little starved.
I feel rage now. I will fight to the end.
I feel hate. As much as it sickens me.
I hate the zombies. The infection.
I will kill as many of these fucking monsters as I can. All of them if I can.
This is not a battle of people, races, politics, religion. This is a war between the living and the undead.
I will become their anathema. If I can’t make a cure I will be one.
How long have we been living in fear? Just trying to survive?
This virus has destroyed our world. Our lives.
Why the fuck should I show it any less in return?
These aren’t people anymore. They are the disease. The mockery of life. The profane.
The little girl on the horse at the Vigil showed me that.
I have nothing left to live for.
But vengeance.
I have killed nine of these monsters since my arrival on this island.
Most of them over the past three nights.
It… Feels good. To fight back. It feels natural. Right.
That candle that woman gave me at the Vigil. Perhaps it is symbolic. That each of us and those who have fallen are like a single flame. That the light of the fallen are the reason we are still here. That though things are darker now, we still carry their fire with us. That together we can be a light in this darkness.
And make it burn. Make the undead burn. Make the Preachers burn.
It doesn’t go against my beliefs when the enemy is an affront to all natural order and life itself.
Practicing yoga, kickboxing. It is a routine. Discipline. Something from the old world that gives me center and restores my emotional and spiritual balance.
The Vigil… Gave me purpose.
Those zombies came from the sea.
So did I.
Their dead now.
I’m not.
I see them for what they are now.
I shall carry this flame for my family.
I shall reignite the fire in my own heart. With hope. With purpose.
As a mother I have always tried to avoid things like anger. Hate. Negative thoughts and feelings. And most of all violence.
But big momma has never been so pissed off.
I can use the rage as an armor against the fear.
I must not forget what I am though, and continue to show kindness and compassion to other humans.
The candle now rests on my small shrine. The flame of my family carried inside me.
I have began old practice routines.
I have cleaned and oiled my machete.
I have grieved for my family.
I said goodbye to them at the Vigil… And myself with them.
And now I am ready for what’s next.
I am ready to fight.
…
Spent the day at the AES.
Treated a few minor injuries.
Wrote a letter to the bosses.
Bent over gratuitously a few times for Porkins.
Ended up going back to the beach to examine the area. Then I went up to the bridge where I had heard shots fired to examine the area for any clues. I am curious about what happened. Suppose I want to know more about the island and it’s people.
It’s too bad the Sheriff and police are all dead and gone.
Never thought I would actually want law enforcement around.
…
Went to the Dollhouse.
Finally caught the thigh guy.
Looks like he is doing okay.
Told him about the Wonder Wash I found, and he liked the idea.
He also paid me a bonus to work in costume. My first pay so far.
We started to talk a little about Halloween, but then he needed to go.
He asked me if I would have sex…
Well… I am desperate… But… I would not sell myself cheap.
I am exotic. And… I do not want to feel cheap… Or do it for anything that would make me feel… Unfaithful.
I still need to survive. John is still gone. I should not hesitate to use my strengths.
I knew this might come.
At least he’s nice, makes me feel good, and pays well.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I… Better not to think about it.
It is kind of nice to feel sexy… Pretty…
And at my age… Better enjoy it why I still got it.
It’s not like I don’t know I am going to die in some horrible way.
If the world can not be saved and restored… If there is no rebuilding… The same waits for everyone. In order for there to be a future, the world has to restart somewhere.
Unless aliens save those of us left and take us off world.
I suppose that would be neat.
I do still have a nice body…
…
And now I’m a Schoolgirl.
Like I am nineteen all over again.
Except this time I’m wiser. And combat trained. And know human anatomy.
I can’t wear my machete easily with this… But I’ll keep it close.
It does feel sexy…
Am I sagging?
Eh.
If I can worry about that I guess I’m doing okay.
When I get a gun I am so dolling that baby up.
…
I think I found where the money at.
Sleep now.
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