I’ve been taking every day one at a time, but that doesn’t seem to be doing much for my sanity.  All isn’t right with the world, but I’ve come to accept that knowing nothing has permanence.  Life never plays out how you’d like it to anyway.

So I’ve found myself on this island, managing to survive and picking up a few friends here and there.  Yet it all still feels so strange to me, being here like this and existing, or rather subsisting.  When so many before met their gruesome ends at the hands of  neighbors, loved ones, strangers and dear friends morphed into abominations with a primal lust for flesh and blood.  Should I be thankful I’m still alive?  Do I try and do what I can in the memory of those that didn’t make it?  When I think back to all my close calls, all the mistakes I’ve made, it scares the shit out of me.  So many times where if I’d been shifted in space-time by just a fraction of a second, that would have been that.

Maybe I’ll write more tomorrow, it’s kinda nice.