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Jim McConnell's Journal

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Entry 1


Day 1029

I don't know exactly why I'm writing a journal. I never really got why people did, even before the dead started rising and fucking eating everybody. Maybe they're therapeutic in some way, maybe they're just bullshit. I never understood how it's considered crazy to talk to yourself, but when you write to yourself it's somehow "normal". Not that anything is normal nowadays. Hell, with some of the shit I've seen, maybe I am crazy. Nevertheless, I ain't got no better way to spend my time.

I've definitely changed from the first time I entered Chernarus. This is the first place I've settled since landing in Europe. I was always on the move, never staying in one place for long. For some reason though, I've stayed in Chernarus. Not entirely by choice, but I'd be lying if I said the people and politics of the region didn't allure me in some strange way. When my family was first gunned down and I was face down in the dirt with a bullet hole through my gut, my only goal was to survive. I made a promise to my family that I wouldn't give up and die just because they were gone. I've never been scared of death, but I knew they'd want better for me. So that was my goal. To survive. But now... I'm wondering if there's something more.

I've avoided making friends for a long time. I've killed more people than I've befriended in this apocalypse. Everything I've done is in the name of survival. I didn't care if I was morally wrong, as long as I was alive. I've lied, double crossed and murdered. I would never have joined a group, because friends are liabilities. Groups never end well. They all end up dying in a war, whether with an outside force or with themselves. Things are different now though.

Now, on the rare occasion that I sleep, I see the faces of my families. I see my fiance, my mother, my father. They look worried, like they don't know if I'll ever join them. Then I look behind me and I see the faces of the people of killed. All of them. Every time I sleep, I see them. I wake up in a cold sweat crying and wonder. I wonder if surviving at any cost is worth it. I made some friends today. Not the ones that I manipulate to get out of a sticky situation, or the ones that I smile at because they have big guns, but real friends.

Merka has been the first real friend I've had since my family died. Even when I joined the Pub in Berezino, I was out of place. I wasn't friends with those people. Lucas and Spiers were nice sure, but I was only there because it was safe. I didn't belong. Merka recognized me in Krasnostav. We've met multiple times now and each time he's proved to me that he's someone I can trust. The people in Krasnostav are good people, great people even. In a world full of murderers, rapists, and bandits these people started a goddamn charity at a church! I know it won't last. People will take advantage of their kindness, people will kill them. But... maybe I've finally found a group of people I'm willing to die for. 

Edited by cmohr
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