Work Text:
10 Sep.
Dear diary,
Today was quite a shocker. The television programme suddenly switched to a national emergency broadcast, in which all citizens were advised to refrain from going outside. I knew of the virus before today, but never had I thought it would reach this level. Those infected would begin exhibiting symptoms such as coughing up blood and shallow breathing around 2 days of infection, and would usually collapse within a week.
Hospitals were overrun with comatose patients, unable to take in anymore. I pray that scientists discover a cure soon.
--
12 Sep.
Dear diary,
The situation is becoming quite worrisome. We have been ordering online for groceries and food, but all sites went down as many essential workers began to fall ill. Thankfully, my roommate has had the right mind to order as much essential items as possible. I pray that we do not run out of supplies before things become better.
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14 Sep.
Dear diary,
What I originally thought was heaven is beginning to become not-so heavenly. The internet has become quite slow, so what would be my entertainment is losing its appeal. I pray the world goes back to normal soon so that my phone stays useful.
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16 Sep.
Dear diary,
Today was mundane. Boredom is getting unbearable, we have played Monopoly, Uno, Jenga, every single game in the apartment countless times already. I might actually try studying out of sheer boredom. As usual, I pray that this whole ordeal is over soon.
--
18 Sep.
Dear diary,
I think a fight broke out on the house above us. The yelling is disrupting my naps. I pray that things stay peaceful in the house.
--
19 Sep.
Dear diary,
We ran out of toilet paper today. We are using tissues now. I checked the pantry and our stash of canned food is going down. My concern for resources is starting to become much more real than before. I pray that our resources last longer than anticipated.
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20 Sep.
Dear diary,
I'm tired. I think my roommate is too. I pray for our sanity.
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21 Sep.
Dear diary,
There was someone at our door today, begging for food. We ignored him until he went away, presumably to ask from other residents. I can only imagine what its like for others that didn't stock up before delivery websites went down. It hasn't been even 2 weeks since this all happened. I pray that things become better soon.
--
22 Sep.
Dear diary,
The upstairs neighbour came to our door today. Like the other, she was begging for food. At this point, I am more concerned about resources than the virus. I might throw caution to the wind and leave soon for more resources. I pray that everything goes back to normal as soon as possible.
--
22 Sep.
Dear diary,
Another person. And another. We might have a problem. This is my second prayer for normalcy today.
--
23 Sep.
Dear diary,
Today, my roommate finally snapped and gave the upstairs neighbour a whole can of pineapple. We got into an argument about it. How can we provide for others when we might not even be able to provide for ourselves? He was always the weaker one. I pray for normalcy, even an illusion is enough.
--
23 Sep.
Dear diary,
A man knocked on our door a couple minutes ago, asking for a woman named Bethany. She had run away from their shared apartment with the last can of food. I told him that we did not know who she was. I'm half tempted to follow in her footsteps. I pray for his and her safety.
--
24 Sep.
Dear diary,
The man came back. Yelled at us for wasting food on Bethany, who was infected, apparently. Upon this revelation, my roommate made the decision to lock himself in his room with half of our remaining supply. It's not a lot, maybe about 12 cans split between the both of us. I pray for our health.
--
25 Sep.
Dear diary,
I began coughing. Blood. It should have been him.
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26 Sep.
It should've been him. He was the one to initiate contact with Bethany, why am I the one?
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27 Sep.
I think I'm going insane. Food has run out. I should've rationed more. At least our water is still running. I am beginning to believe my prayers are going unanswered after all.
--
Thursday.
Running out of time. It should've been him.
--
Friday.
He was weaker than I expected.
--
Saturday.
Something smells weird