(On an undetermined hold)
Dear Diary,
I believe that some strange person is reading my entries and I would think they would have at least a thread of human decency to not do such an act.
But if it's not a stranger but an apocalypse survivor stumbl...
You know what I don't even know why I started that so I'm not going to continue it.
I feel like I should introduce myself. Which is a stupid feeling because I'm talking to myself and I know myself. Though not in the deep and meaningful way that people who use the phrase do. More like if I saw myself in the mirror I'd recognize myself.
So there is no need for an introduction.
Unless I'm talking to the one invasive nosey person reading this.
Though maybe you have no choice.
Maybe the apacolypse (or however you spell that) has happened and you came into this house looking for food. I obviously did not last long. But maybe you picked up this diary out of the couple of dozen that I have and decided to read it because it's been ages since you've talked to another human being and need comfort.
If so, first off congrats on surviving so far. Sadly all the food (if there is any left) is healthy and fresh so most likely has gone bad by now. I'm sorry. But you're a survivor so I have faith in you. Fighting.
Back to me. Not to downplay your apcolalytic (still can't spell) problems but this diary is about me.
Introduction.
Put on your bucket hat, and open your umbrella because here comes a deluge of exposition.
My name. It's Alex. That stands for something longer but because no one calls me that then you can stick with Alex. Okay, my mom calls me my first full name but since you ain't my mom you don't get to use it.
Mom if you're reading this be honored. You alone reserve the privilege of using my full name.
Age: 17 going on 85. You won't get this if you've never been sick for a long time or in mass amounts of pain. That's an honor only us really special people hold. So don't stress over the logic of how that doesn't mathematically work.
Appearance.
When not washed my hair is a greasy dark brown ponytail. When washed it's a limp brown.
Eyes.
Soulless with a glint of light brown.
Skin tone.
Previously tan 90% of the year but now is an ugly white that is neither porcelain or eggshell. I know the level of attractiveness that I have reached is astounding to me too. It's okay to be jealous.
My hand is starting to hurt and I have to think about what more I should add to this introduction so I'm going to take a break.
(Apollytic survivor I think my brother might have hidden candy bars in his underwear drawer so try looking there for something to eat)
All right I'm back. To you it was nothing but I did leave for a full day. To the opocalytic (shoot! This is so annoying. Is that how it's spelt? I'm going to sound it out a-po-cal-yp-tic or is it a-pa-col-yp-tic I think its the first one) to the apocalyptic survivor I hid 5 cans of soup in the back of the cupboard at the bottom. I hope that helps you survive.
Back to my introduction.
Honestly, I'm a little over it so I think I'm going to wrap it up with this.
I live with my family, (most of them, some of them). And of course I do or I would have died long ago. My family... You know what, I don't feel like getting into that yet. Does this mean there's issues? Do you have a family? Do you not have issues with them? If you don't, be happy you're like the only one.
Maybe I'll come back to that topic because I guess that's what a journal is for to pour out all the drama of life onto a page. But like I said I'm tired right now and don't feel like dishing out the tea. Or would that be pouring since it has to do with a liquid. Who cares. Moving on.
I live in a small town in California. And it's not a book small town you know, where it's quaint and people are involved in other people's lives.
No, it's just small in the sense that you might run into someone you know at the grocery store but you're not going to know the state of the banker's marriage or whether the produce guy has a thing for the cashier girl. No one cares enough to know.
Yeah, I think that's all I'm going to share. I'm tired now and need to lie down.
(Are those technically weeds? I think so but let's face it some of us are flowers, some of us are the pretty weeds of the world surviving not matter what and wherever we can. Wow that turned out more poetic than I thought)
Not going to lie, Alex is a weird one. Who talks to an imaginary apocalyptic survivor that they've never met? This girl is a little off her rocker. But I guess we have to let it slide since she's sick.
What did you think of the chapter? 💭💬🗯🤪
I know these are shorter than any of my normal chapters are. But someone with pain isn't likely to write these long in depth entries, tiredness and weakness would make it difficult.
If you're thinking about dipping I ask you one thing, wait until next chapter! It has something that I think is pretty funny and was unexpected to me and I think you'll enjoy.
After that then you can leave if you want. I hope this strange experiment of mine is entertaining to you in some way!
Vote, comment, follow and smile because you make me smile!
As requested here a photo of my writing for this chapter
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Also diary meme!
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