Shias Log: Day 2 by Timothy Alan Lyrics
Day 2. October 24, 2012. 8:32 pm.
Elliot says that he misses school. Elliot is my little brother, by the way. Can you believe it? A ten-year-old misses school. Well, I can’t blame him. Okay days always seem to turn into wonderful days after you’ve had a few bad ones. You always appreciate things more retrospectively than in the present. That’s always been weird to me, but who am I to talk, I’ve recently had flashbacks of mowing the lawn that seem brighter than now, and I can’t blame the little guy for missing any sort of normality, no matter what it is. I personally never liked school. Hold your gasp, you’ll only waste air, but I wasn’t exactly the valedictorian at my old high school. I was too busy working two jobs to keep my brother and me alive. No history or math class could be more important than that, right? I don’t think so, anyways.
I went outside today to search for food because what we have is almost out. I grabbed a bookbag I thought might come in handy, a knife from the kitchen we’re sleeping in, and headed out. I’m still not sure where exactly I was going to look, but, believe it or not, man at one time used to hunt for his own food before big businesses filled it with steroids, slaughtered and cooked it, and fed it to people who either didn’t realize what they were eating or didn’t care enough to stop ordering it. Don’t worry, Elliot was fine. I found some old paint in one of the rooms and covered the windows with it so no one would notice we’re here. I haven’t been outside too many times since all of this, but the few times I have been were earlier on. It’s gotten much worse. I had my mind prepared for what I would see, but, of course, it wasn’t anything like I thought.
It seemed like every building around that wasn’t broken into and looted was set on fire. A few Thy-Trips (that’s what I’ve decided to name them) were wandering the street, but I’m pretty good at staying under their crazy radar. I figure that anybody who’s still alive has learned to become that much more invisible at this point. Regular, everyday people turn into ninjas when it becomes necessary. Humans are strange, aren’t they? I didn’t find much of anything besides a bunch of half-eaten dead bodies lying in the street. I’m not so prideful that I won’t admit I vomited a few times. As quietly as possible, of course. They’re nothing like the dead bodies you see in movies. No visual artist could apply enough make-up to make an actor or actress look as nauseating as what I saw today. I wonder if the Thy-Trips have wandered out of New York yet. I hope not.
Elliot looked so disappointed when I came back empty-handed. I could hardly stand it. Big Brother was supposed to come back with twelve stacked boxes of pizza and a bookbag full of cheeseburgers. I better stop thinking about real food or I’ll stop appreciating those soon-to-be-stale cookies. I’ll appreciate the present now… because I have a feeling it’ll be a long time before I can see anything in retrospect.
One more day of living, Shia.
Elliot says that he misses school. Elliot is my little brother, by the way. Can you believe it? A ten-year-old misses school. Well, I can’t blame him. Okay days always seem to turn into wonderful days after you’ve had a few bad ones. You always appreciate things more retrospectively than in the present. That’s always been weird to me, but who am I to talk, I’ve recently had flashbacks of mowing the lawn that seem brighter than now, and I can’t blame the little guy for missing any sort of normality, no matter what it is. I personally never liked school. Hold your gasp, you’ll only waste air, but I wasn’t exactly the valedictorian at my old high school. I was too busy working two jobs to keep my brother and me alive. No history or math class could be more important than that, right? I don’t think so, anyways.
I went outside today to search for food because what we have is almost out. I grabbed a bookbag I thought might come in handy, a knife from the kitchen we’re sleeping in, and headed out. I’m still not sure where exactly I was going to look, but, believe it or not, man at one time used to hunt for his own food before big businesses filled it with steroids, slaughtered and cooked it, and fed it to people who either didn’t realize what they were eating or didn’t care enough to stop ordering it. Don’t worry, Elliot was fine. I found some old paint in one of the rooms and covered the windows with it so no one would notice we’re here. I haven’t been outside too many times since all of this, but the few times I have been were earlier on. It’s gotten much worse. I had my mind prepared for what I would see, but, of course, it wasn’t anything like I thought.
It seemed like every building around that wasn’t broken into and looted was set on fire. A few Thy-Trips (that’s what I’ve decided to name them) were wandering the street, but I’m pretty good at staying under their crazy radar. I figure that anybody who’s still alive has learned to become that much more invisible at this point. Regular, everyday people turn into ninjas when it becomes necessary. Humans are strange, aren’t they? I didn’t find much of anything besides a bunch of half-eaten dead bodies lying in the street. I’m not so prideful that I won’t admit I vomited a few times. As quietly as possible, of course. They’re nothing like the dead bodies you see in movies. No visual artist could apply enough make-up to make an actor or actress look as nauseating as what I saw today. I wonder if the Thy-Trips have wandered out of New York yet. I hope not.
Elliot looked so disappointed when I came back empty-handed. I could hardly stand it. Big Brother was supposed to come back with twelve stacked boxes of pizza and a bookbag full of cheeseburgers. I better stop thinking about real food or I’ll stop appreciating those soon-to-be-stale cookies. I’ll appreciate the present now… because I have a feeling it’ll be a long time before I can see anything in retrospect.
One more day of living, Shia.