unexpected rush

Diary Entry Number 1

Day: 4,271 and counting

Deaths recorded: 3 Billion

Location: Unknown

Home, what is a definition of a home? Is a house a home? Or is it the person that you surround yourself with, is that home? Homes suppose to be safe and warm, not cold and lonely I suppose that's what war does to us; it distresses us. Manipulates us, making us believe there is hope when in reality hope doesn't exist, do I even exist?

I can't remember who I was; only a whisper of a memory remains.

I used to go by Elisabeth James, in saying that I used to be a child once; just an innocent enough teenager, with a habit of shying away from society and all that it brings. I once thought being shy was a disadvantage; a disability... perhaps, but now it just seems smart of me to keep myself at a distance away from anyone. It did save me heartache in the long run, but like all good armour, there's always something that seeps through the cracks when you least expect it to.

I guess it's got me this far but it can only take me so far. I won't be able to go any longer; I can't believe  

that out of everyone I was the survivor. Me! Plain old me.

War isn't a place for anyone that much is simply. But is it war or just slaughter? We never had a chance against them they had us fooled into thinking we were safe. Our own government!

But I'm going too far too quickly to tell you the end I have to tell you the beginning, where it all started, when I was a normal Teenage girl.