DAY 15: It’s a beautiful day. I may be a little drunk, but it is a beautiful day. There might be burning buildings all around me, but it is a beautiful day.
I really didn’t think it was going to end like this. I figured something environmental would get us long after I would have to worry about it. You just have to keep telling yourself death is inevitable. You can’t forget that.
The time I’ve spent on this planet has been incredible. To think I had a chance to experience the world is reason enough to be happy. Babies born, love gained, love lost – true friendship. I explored and learned what I could. The final days will undoubtedly be reflective and serene.
I’ve lost contact with almost everyone, and all information or news. Only one channel has reported anything, and sparingly. There are giant gatherings on every continent. Millions of people in various places singing and chanting. The few videos I saw were haunting but beautiful. I had considered it, but I need to be with my family.
I believe we have enough water to make it two more weeks. I hope we do.
DAY 25: I don’t want to die. God I don’t want to die. Maybe the suicidals have the right idea. It’s agony to wait in limbo. I have no friends left. Only my father is left – who becomes closer to alcohol poisoning by the day. Fuck this. The world is so grey. There is no electricity, no food, no water. The last news report several days ago suggested that most of the world’s population may be dead.
I spend half my day crying and half my day picking myself back up. Crying is such a strange thing; there is usually a point to it – that the future looks bad, or the past was bad. But now, it is an empty act; it is a pointless necessity.
DAY 30: It’s surreal. There’s no other way to put it. The waves, the colors. That clueless seagull above me.
After my father died, I had no one left. I made a run for the coast. There are bodies everywhere; nothing new. As I guzzle my last bottle of cough syrup, sitting naked in a lawn chair, I look at the sunset. The Earth is shaking below me. A very lovely apocalyptic massage. There is nothing left to think. At last I can breathe. At last my heart rate can slow down. It’s just me and the beach.
I touch a nearby palm tree, running my hand down it. I marvel the complexity of it; I marvel us organisms which have done our best on this planet. I think about all the life that came before us, that allowed us to exist – to experience and understand the world.
Oh, but what a cliche last thought to have
But no…It’s not. It’s a fine thought. There is no more cliche; there is no one to judge. I can think what I want.
And I think I’m happy. The past no longer matters. At this moment I am happy.”