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Just Hang in There

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February 24th, 2030

I've done some fucked up shit since this thing started, you name it. Murder, torture, addiction, these used to be foreign things to me, just some things you see in slums or in movies. But this is exactly like a movie and a hell of a lot more worse than a slum. Anyways, this is my journal and i will be writing this for whoever the fuck cares to stumble upon it after i become one of those things. At the moment I'm in a tent just due northeast of a small town called Novy Sobor injecting my last stick of morphine i managed to scavenge down in the town over's remnants of an old military outpost just so i can make it through the night without going insane and/or putting a 9 right through my skull.

I used to rely on myself, my own instincts. But it seems as if this red auto injector can literally dictate ones life just as a man can control a 1000 pound bulls entire body just by pulling on its nose.Something so minuscule can literally dictate what you think, eat, drink, and even act upon. But i don't care about that. Right now i care about finding that vein that always gets the good stuff to my head. As soon as i inject the liquid into myself it feels as if my muscles are turning around my bones.

I'm getting sleepy now, guess ill go to bed again and hope to god ,if he even exists anymore, i don't wake up.

Quick side note: I know this is really dark and that is how i intend it to be. I am really hoping on continuing entries if people would like to see more.

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