Untitled Diary - Prologue

Every day when I open my eyes, part of me wishes I didn't. I suppose that's par for the course. Ever since the world ended, things have been a little depressing. Sometimes, I wonder how exactly I've managed to not go crazy yet. Of course, I'm talking to myself right now, trying to find the right words, so maybe I already have and just sort of accepted it a long time ago. I mean, hell, I haven't seen another person in... weeks? Months? I'm not even entirely sure when it is now.

I've got a handful of batteries left and I found one of those voice recorders you used to always see those asshole personal assistants on TV using. Maybe if I talk this out, I can get a hold of some paper later and put it onto something tangible.

Tangible.

Kind of an odd concept these days. The only thing anyone really has to call their own are just nightmares, psychological disorders, and in my case, a wicked cool scar or three. If you're lucky, and I am, a couple of guns and maybe some water. Damn, now I'm thirsty. Where's the off switch for this thing? Oh, there it is.

All right, I'm back. What was I talking about? Tangibility. I guess I can be called one of the lucky ones. I've got a couple of things people would consider worth fighting for. The trick these days though, is to travel light, so I don't have a whole lot. A change of clothes, a handful of bullets, a fairly decent light disaster kit. Of course, I'm pretty sure my definition of 'light disaster' is a hell of a lot different than it was before all this started.

OK, wait, I'm getting ahead of myself again. The whole point of this was to get my story out. Maybe someday, someone in society, if there is one by then, will find it and maybe learn a thing or two. So maybe I should go back a little and start from the beginning. Or maybe I should just give up and do what six and a half billion people did a couple of years ago and just drop dead. Some days, I wish I would have back then.

Hell, most days I do.

I almost found a real legit reason to keep going a time or two. Shame those people didn't share my enthusiasm. But I'll get to them later. If I'm gonna tell this, I'm gonna try to tell it right. In the right order, chronologically, so things make sense in case anyone hears this later. Look at me, trying to be considerate for someone or something that may or may not exist at some point in the future that may or may not still be here.

Nah, wait, I'm pretty sure the future will still be around. I'm just being overly dramatic. The question is, will there be anyone or anything left?

Dammit, I'm getting off topic again. All I'm doing is wasting the batteries, and I don't know how long they'll last. That's the problem with 'borrowed' goods. I should just take a few minutes to get my thoughts together and then get on with my story.

Letters To People I May Or May Not Know

Dear Bonnie Tyler; I'm sorry that you sounded awesome 30 years ago, and don't nearly as much nowadays. Not that you're not talented or awesome now, just that, ya know... Everything you've done in the last 4 years (all remakes of the same song, that happens to be my favorite song of yours) kinda has that whole 'sounds like you did 3 packs a day for 40 years' when you sing deal happening. Sorry.

Dear Lady Gaga; Sorry you're not as talented as Madonna was 25 years ago, even if you're trying to sound *just like her*. You're still irritatingly catchy if it makes you feel any better. And 'Bad Romance' has done wonders for my Rock Band 3 achievement whoring with it's incredibly simplistic vocals. This isn't a compliment.

Dear Bestie; Sorry that you keep kicking my ass to write something new for this spot. I've been doing a lot of writing. Just none of it for *here*.

Dear New (being a relative term) Upstairs Neighbors; When I long for the days where the abusive couple were quieter and more predictable than you were, then you're DOING IT WRONG. This is why its 330 AM and I'm blasting rap music in your general direction. Please either send your kids to school or invest in shackles and/or muzzles.

Dear Canada; I feel like my personal space has been kind of invaded, but my willingness to be the bigger person and avoid confrontation is over. I hope you're around on the next karaoke night that I'm sufficiently intoxicated. I kinda need one and the other to happen together so I can convey the awesome idea I had earlier tonight to let you know how I feel. Alternately, you can find a new goddamn bar to hang out at. It's not like there aren't 17 identical ones that are as much of a shit hole as the one I hang out in.

Dear Everyone I Know Who's From Canada Who Isn't The Intended Recipient Of The Last Letter; Ignore that, it wasn't for you. Obviously. All two of you.

Dear Allie; I know you're busy doing important stuff like like going to the motherfucking bank like an adult, but if you updated more often, I'd send you warm psychic fuzzies.

Dear Protomen, LiGHTs, and Gavin DeGraw; RB3 tracks need to happen plox kthx bai. And I wouldn't turn down a tour date in Fredericksburg or Stafford either. <3

Dear Sacco; Your sad clown otter PAX East pic has no sway over me. It is in no way totally amusing and deserves a reference. I'm obviously lying.

Dear End of June Facebook Status; I haven't forgotten about you and the epic cockblocking you promised to share. It'll happen some day. Maybe.

Dear Random Kid; I know it's in your nature to be inquisitive, and I know since you're an American your parents probably didn't teach you any Goddamn manners, but the next time one of you asks why I'm wearing an eye patch, I'm going to tell you with no humor at all in my voice, "There is no Santa Claus, and your parents divorce really *was* your fault."

Dear DC; You know that rule we have that says RL > WoW? That applies to the GL too, sadly. Sorry I been neglecting y'all lately. Also, I know the music stream in Vent is still broken. I'll fix it someday soon. Ish. Maybe.

Dear Local City Police Officer; Thanks for applying logic and saving my ass from the bored Sheriff tonight. You rock.

Sincerely, Ptak