Hello, possible survivors of the future! I am coming to you, live, from a bunker! Well, okay. At the time that you're are probably reading this, it's probably not live anymore... Fuck it. I'm dying. What does it even matter? Anyway, I know a historical event when I see one. Trust me. I'm a history tutor. Wait, do people of the future still have tutors? Look at me. Assuming the on coming people after this tragedy are going to all speak English and what not. Again, humor me. I'm dying. 

So there used to be a bunch of terrible shit that would go on in the world, and people recorded all of that in diaries. They, or their surviving families, would make bank on the first hand accounts! Even if the accounts were poorly written, people still ate that shit up. Now I am not the best writer, but as I said, I know a historical event when I see one. This shit, and what's currently happening to me, is pretty big. If you find this and want to record it for history, find whatever member of my family that you can and compensate them for it. That is my dying wish. 

Okay, here's a brief background and build up to what you are about to find in this bunker. 

My name is Richie. My life was spent pretty much alone in my room watching documentaries and cartoons. At school I was an average B/C student, with the exception of history. History was definitely my forte. On the weekends and some late nights you could find me working as a McDonald employee on Harrison. I had friends, but no one I would ever take the time to hang out with outside of school. My parents never got married, so I never really met my dad. My mom got married to a guy named Bill who passed away about three years ago. She had four kids with him, so it was kind of hard. I got a job to help as much as I can. Basically, I was a pretty average teen. 

God, it is so weird that I can sum up my life in a tiny little paragraph. Oh well. 2016 sure was a breath taking year. Ha, I crack myself up. But yeah, after Trump got elected things went a little South. This guy with a crazy looking beard came into the country with a small colt of people, and as a bizarre act of terrorism, they infected the country with a horrendous virus. And I shit you not, it turned people into zombies. The Mayans were just few years off the whole doomsday thing, apparently. The virus started up around the east coast and expended west in about a week and a half. the government went nuts trying to fix it, but they can't agree on a damn thing, even if it puts us petty civilians in hell's line of fire. That's fine. Whatever. People on this side of the country are obsessed with zombie survival shit anyway. Seriously though, the amount of gun toting loonies over here is ridiculous. 

It took a while to reach Idaho, but that didn't stop these morons from rampaging. I say morons, and I basically mean my family. That's why I know at least some of them survived. They're the aforementioned gun toting assholes. I, however, am not that keen on surviving. I mean, is it even worth it to survive when all you do is drive yourself foam mouthed crazy? Not in my eyes it isn't. I've decided to take the opportunity to hide out in my great grandfather's bunker out back of his place. My family is off somewhere emptying their rounds. It was a bit of a small journey to get to my grandpa's with out being shot or eaten by monsters. Actually, both of those things happened. I got shot in the most embarrassing place. My damn foot! I was slower after that, and a zombie attacked me. It bit my shoulder before I bashed it's head in with a rock. Still fucking hurt though. I know what comes next, and you might think  I'm selfish for hording the old man's bunker all to my dying self. Well, fuck you. I want to spent my remaining time scarfing down nachos and drowning myself in soda. I'm not waiting for a cure. I'm not waiting to be murdered. Look there is plenty of food, water, blankets, power etc... in this bunker. My grandpa was an absolute doomsday prepper till the end. The end, being yesterday, when he had a fucking heart attack from his excitement. Coot. 

I'm leaving this letter in a noticeable place. It functions as a little piece of history, and an invitation. Two birds, one stone and all that jazz. Fuck, I was a damn genius. So, yeah. Feel free to come in, blow my zombie brains out, and take whatever. Hell, i'll leave everything unlocked for you. Don't erase my files on any of my DS games. I'll come back to haunt your ass, I swear to God! Um... Yeah. That's pretty much it.

Fuck. I feel like shit. What are some good last words? Uh... Oh, dude. I know. A bit of advise. If you are spending your life focusing on trying to live, then knock it the fuck off. You're wasting it. Take a quick breather. Seriously, just take some time to enjoy some stuff. Life isn't about surviving. It's about living. Yeah. Dude, that was good. Fuck, I'm awesome. 

Love, Richie Chamberland

January 3, 1999 - November 20, 2016

    Isn't it funny how a person can wish and wish upon stars and candles for whatever it may be they desire the most, yet they take so much of their time wishing that they miss their dream coming true. I have focused so hard on a beautiful picture of magical powers splashing whimsically onto an open canvas. Everyday I fill my own head with meaningless stories all depicting myself as a godlike creature. Sometimes I am cursed with my blessings and other times I am blessed with curses. Power rages throughout my being, enveloping the weak child I have always been, and my dreams take me away into an elaborate kingdom of my own design. I am free in the passing moments that I am left to my thoughts. Simple seconds tick away and I miss more and more of reality. Of course, I can't lock myself away forever. I can see that my frivolous moments of solitude are starting to disconnect me from those whom I am in debt to for helping me out of my hell years ago. I know I have to return to the ones I love and make them proud. I am hurting them by going back into the world I fabricated. So, my wish was this: Can I merge the two?

    What a damn fool I've been for asking such a preposterous thing. Of course I see my loved ones in my world, because this right here is my world. It's not in my head, the journey's are different, but I am growing. I am blossoming just as the hero in my tales. The me in my story and the me right now are not two different people. I have powers in this reality. They're different, but they are truly remarkable. I am far more significant than I give myself credit for. Good God, I can see ghosts for Christ sake!

    We are not what we once were and we will never be what we are now ever again. The memories we have of the past experiences we created with woven moments of time, are what make our lives so delicate. We are precious creatures that are destined to one die, and yet despite this terrifying fact of looming death, the fear remains dormant in the backs of our minds. We occupy ourselves with the most terrific activity a living being can do. We grow. It is so beautiful. We fucking grow, shattering each of our past selves and remaking ourselves into newer, far better beings. Within seconds, we make ourselves into ghosts.

    I find aging to be a beautiful process. Think about it! We start off as these little sea monkeys with small chances of survival, and despite every odd that dares stand in our paths, we form into tiny humans and enter the world as little soldiers prepared for a long, and glorious battle. From the first twitch of an infant's mouth and the shimmering twinkle of knowing in its eyes, it breaks its first layer of innocence and ventures forth, cracking itself further and making a new being at the exact same time.

    A wise forum once said, "We are all broken." and it saved me from ruining myself for the sake of wishful thinking. In thinking about how that may be true, I glimpsed into the long forgotten window of reality, and what I saw took my breath away. I'm not afraid of the events about to transpire. I welcome the oncoming challenge this world is bringing me. Take a look at the world, my unnamed companions, instead of wishing for it. It surely bares the gifts you've been hoping for all this time. I hope to see you in the fight for hope and wishes soon.