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Fred's Journal

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Page 1:

So I've heard it's a good idea to write stuff down, so that you can get it off your chest.
At least I think so, its been a long time since I've been around anyone with that kind of profession, to be able to claim such.
Well here we go, guess I can write whatever I want, since it's only me who reads this.

Guess I'll write about my bad deeds. So I've killed people, too many, way too many.
I don't even keep count anymore, sometimes I doubt if I'm even human anymore.
I like to think of myself as a good person, but that is just some bullshit that I make up in my mind, so I can sleep at night.
I wonder, when enough is going to be enough... Guess I'll have to keep killing, until I find my threshold.
Good god, what is wrong with me? This apocalypse has brought out the worst of me, I was 14 when all of this started
Now look at me, 17 or something and fucked up in the head. I've made myself believe that this killing I commit is reasonable.

Page 2:

I should contact a doctor, or something I need help. I've done nothing but cause unneccesary harm to people.
Some of them deserve it, but the rest are casualties that could've been avoided, just by talking.
You know, like people did before the apocalypse?

Sometimes when I try to fall asleep at night, I look up at the sky and think back at all the stuff we had.
So much waste, so much loss. We've effectively been thrown back to the stone-age, except we're armed with rifles.
I read a book once, that said mankind is based on war, and after all that I've experienced, I'm starting to think that it's true.
Why do we have to resolve to such violence? I don't even know myself, because I'm part of the problem.

This world is a wasteland, a ghost of a previously prosperous world. We achieved so much, so fast.
Only for all of it to be ruined by a fucking disease. We lost all of our progress, we have to start all over, if we even can anymore.

Page 3:

I've been reading my previous notes in this "Journal" or what ever it is, no clue.
At this point I'm just writing what ever comes to mind, in hope of this working. So I can feel better about myself.
If I wasn't alive, then a lot of other people would've lived, I'm a leech of human life. I've ended life, instead of helping it.
I'm part of the fucking problem. I don't think this Journal is helping me much.
I'm thinking too much over my decisions, I've had trouble pulling the trigger of my gun over the recent days, because of this.

I shouldn't doubt myself, for who am I, if I can't trust myself? A husk with a divided soul, and that I can't do.
If I have to keep my sanity by resolving to violence, then so be it. I will kill, so I won't lose my mind.
But sometimes I feel like I'm not me, like someone else is in control.

And that person is a fucking pussy! Imagine not being able to pull the trigger! Are you a man or a coward?
I will survive by all means neccesary, and that includes everything. I'm no good dead.
All us humans have a sense, no not a sense, a need to survive. It's essential, It's wired into us.
And I will not let these shitty "therapy" sessions cloud my judgement, when I need to make life or death decisions.

Edited by KohlSkaal
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