I found a journal and a pen today. Found is probably not the proper phrasing...scavenged, would fit more justly. The couple I found it on had shot themselves, not an uncommon occurrence in this existence. The woman had been bit, the man was fine; from a physical standpoint at least. Living in this world without another can not be done for some. I can say I've put a gun to my temple on multiple occasions, fuck if I know why I decide to still fight.
I should explain myself. My name is Gabriel Tranas. I am a survivor, not unlike yourself if you're reading this. My money is put on the fact that you found this journal sometime on my dead body, maybe with a bullet hole in my head...My inevitable death is something I came to terms with months ago. Hopefully, my ramblings during my waning days in Apocolyptia will keep you sane in these dark times; for another few "precious" hours.
The last bit of light has drained from the land and I am now writing, solely, from the light of the stars. I should begin to wrestle myself to sleep, before the groans reach my ears.
-Gabe
