Loneliness.
A missing part of the soul.
A gap in your heart.
Stuck there 'till you find someone.
Who can cure your disease.
But that isn't possible, is it?

It's dark out, and these... dead people. They room a lot more. I have come to call them zombies, partially cause they are a lot like zombies in the movies. Almost identical. I have seen people get bitten, and they turned instantaneously. How is it that I'm alive, yet I got bit? Am I a special type? Or am I, just... turning slower than the others. I still occasionally get the strange craving for human flesh, but it comes and goes. Very rarely does that happen, but it does. I've been on the road for who knows how long, and it's starting to get to me. Especially because I don't know where my parents are, and my brother. I just hope they are ok. But, I do know that I am in Washington D.C. Right now. So, hopefully I find someone. Someone nice. I think this place wasn't hit as bad as Canada, though. Less destruction visible. But still run down. I have helped many people here, and heard of this place called Alexandria... I think. I don't fully remember. I just remember that it's run by a man named rick. Hopefully, I can find that place and stay there. For now though, I just gotta survive. I look to my left and i see a horde of walkers, and look to my right and there's a big one. You know, the hulks. Destroyers. The tanks. You know. I've seen what these things can do. But, in a horde, I'm out numbered. It's probably easier if I go right. I would go straight, but there is a wall right in front of me I can't pass. I go right and I stare right at it. I can see the hatred, the hunger, and the rage in it's eyes. I somehow know who that was. Alex duran. Age 37. Had a wife and child. He sacrificed himself so they could be safe. It's really sad... Because he literally gave up everything. Although, I know this, I never met him. But, I swiftly dodged it's attacks and stabbed it in the head with my combat knife. To anyone else, that would have been suicide. Time to continue on.