Dear Diary, oh nevermind

My sanity, if I can invoke it still, hangs on a thread. Corpses surround me, oh , the agony. What rule did I break, what mistake could I have done to live in such a time, of evil and disdain. You wouldn't believe me, dear diary, if I told you about the horrors that I saw. And still, you call to me. The last place in which I can be myself, no masks, no guilt. Ironic, wouldn't you say? To talk about myself in a time like this, it seems I remained as selfish as before, nothing has changed regarding that. 

But tell me, how can one be selfish when surrounded by such atrocities that nobody should ever encounter? I can barely find food to sustain myself, let alone others. I can only hope that my dear sister, Anne, is still somewhere out there. You see, I've lost her this morning. The touched ones surrounded every corner of our little town. She is so fragile, so little. We were told to barricade ourselves where we could, they told us help is coming. 

Is it so wrong of me to think that we did this to ourselves? That it can't be the wrath of God or anything else written and rotten in some old book.

I'm only 19, how could I presume to know anything about such forgotten things? I strive to keep myself focused..but it feels like I'm being stuck in an endless nightmare. It started slowly, one year ago. Several cases of strange infections were starting to emerge from their safely guarded facilities. Of course they wouldn't let the media know until now. Because of worldwide panic, most will say. But I don't agree. Why must an entire race suffer for a handful of greedy, old men who couldn't let go of the mystery of our surroundings, of humanity itself?

Nothing is going to make a difference right now. The deeds are done, and we've certainly signed our death pacts when we let that girl die. It is said she was the closest thing to a messiah that lived to walk this tainted earth. She spoke of great terrors to come, of powers that men could not perceive. The people knew, deep in their hearts, they knew something wicked this way comes. Nevertheless, the doctors labeled her immediately as being insane. I say they feared her insight. They feared that the information was going to break out and we were all going to stop their plan. 

Enough for today, dear diary. 

If I'll not survive tomorrow, maybe you will. Maybe you will survive a great deal of time. And maybe, just maybe, if I won't be around anymore, my dear Anne will find this piece of paper. And she will know that my love for her transcends every obstacle this chaos puts in front of us. Certainly, I will never know for sure. Maybe only in death, can one hope to understand this whole puzzle. Yet, for now, my thoughts are with you, my beloved. And if death got its hands stuck in you, then we will surely meet on the other side. I can only hope to see you one more time before it all ends.