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| Once upon a time, I was alive. I don't remember what happened. Now, I just am. This journal is going to be my guide, my memories revisited, my possible salvation from the insanity that threatens to engulf me, as I delve deeper into my own mind. Pray for me. January 1, 2000 The world didn't end. Pity. It would have made things much easier, I think. The suffering of this planet deserves to end. January 10, 2000 Some things are just not to be understood, or explored. . .I tried to sleep. I decided that if I was going to have visions in my waking hours; that time when the rest of the world seems to be asleep, then I should be able to have them even more profoundly, and possibly shed some light on my situation, if I were able to sleep. I was able to . . . obtain . . . some sleeping pills. I decided, that if I took too many and 'died'; well, was that so bad? I took the remaining pills in the bottle. Eleven of them. . . I did not sleep. My body expelled the pills, rather spectacularly, through the place that used to be my belly button. Rather painful, that. I have to admit, though, that it was a welcome sensation. I have not felt much of anything since my resurrection. It was quite a shock, and a reminder of just how different I am now, from what I am assuming I was like when I still lived. January 20, 2000 I had an interesting experience today. I am not sure what it means, other than the obvious, that I am not as alone as I thought . . . I was taking the subway downtown, and I was waiting on the downtown platform for the 1/9 train. I . . . felt . . . something, and turned around to look at the other platform, across the wide array of tracks. What I saw gave me the closest thing to an emotion I have felt so far. There, on the uptown platform, was another zombie. I never knew it, but I must have the same sort of aura surrounding me as she had around her. There she was, just standing there in her business suit, briefcase in hand. Just standing there . . . and looking right at me. No emotion showed on her face, as I am sure there was none on mine, either. We just stood there, and I wondered if I should speak to her. Just then, at that thought, I felt a . . . push, I guess is the closest thing to call it, inside my head. Right then, the uptown 1/9 came screeching to a halt between us, and I lost sight of her. The push was gone as quickly as it had appeared. . .as was my new companion in this increasingly complex existence. I am not alone after all . . . January 30, 2000 Walking around this city, day after day, night after night, I get to see the different people, and experience their lives for the briefest of moments, as I brush up against them as they pass me, or stand against them on the subway . . . unaware of what I am taking from them . . . their thoughts, and memories. Have I always been this way? Before my resurrection, was I able to retrieve a person's memories and thoughts from such a casual contact as this? Sometimes I wonder if I was in some sort of a trance, and then suddenly awoke, to be confused and unaware of a past? I just don't know. . . February 17, 2000 I saw my 'friend' again; the woman from the subway platform. I felt that push again...stronger this time. I was just walking down Seventh Avenue, going downtown, and I felt a presense of something familiar. I knew almost instantly that it was her, and that she was looking for me. She was across the busy street, walking along at the same pace I was. Our eyes met, and that aura I saw around her grew slightly darker for a few seconds. I had no idea what that meant, of course. This was so strange to me, in a world where there was no rules, no apparent rhyme or reason. . .things just didn't make sense to me. So many questions, and there, across Seventh Avenue, was my answers. I stopped at the next corner, at 22nd Street, and waited for her to cross at the next available traffic opening. She came across, looking at me the whole time, our eyes never unlocking. She just stood there, staring at me, her expression blank, as mine is, I suppose. I have no idea how long we were there, but I started to feel a little light-headed. When she finally spoke, it was not anything that I had expected . . . if I was expecting anything. "You're not one of us," she said, and turned and walked back across the busy intersection. I just stood there, wondering what I should do. I finally called out to her, when she was about halfway across. She stopped, and turned. The look I got from her reminded me of a look from someone else, from a past I hardly remember having, but it made me stop whatever it was I was going to say, and I let her turn back around and continue on her way . . .leaving me with more unanswered questions than I thought I already had. March 1, 2000 I don't know why, but today brings feelings I don't understand. I am thinking that today was, or is, someone's birthday . . . someone I should remember . . . I've also been thinking a lot about my mystery woman from a couple weeks ago. 'Not one of us', she had said. I know now, that there are other Zombies walking the streets with me, but how many? How do I find them? Do I really want to? What do I do if and when I do find them? As I wrote in my last entry: 'more unanswered questions . . . .' April 19, 2000 I do not know why, but I cannot keep my mind focused on this journal. I think about writing in it, but there are so many thoughts rampaging through my mind, that trying to get it into clear enough focus to write it down seems a daunting task. I know that there are more 'creatures' like myself out there now, and that unlocking the secrets of who and what I am lies within their circles...why do I hesitate? Why do I wait, before actively seeking their counsel? I feel myself slipping into a routine of working and waiting. Is this what we all do? Alive and Dead alike? Something has to change, and it's not going to happen unless I make it. I wonder why I haven't seen anymore Zombies, since that last time on the street? |
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