To Whom It May Concern:
If this message has gotten to you, Hello! Yes, there is someone else out there, and surprisingly this is not an S.O.S.
You are not alone in the world. I live in a cave by the sea, and you must be by the sea also if this message has reached you. I left my home during that awful catastrophe we don’t like to think of and took a few things with me…A pen and notebook was one of them. I’ve been living in this cave for some time now, I keep track of the days by gathering coconuts and putting them in a pile. I wonder if you have a method for keeping time or if you perhaps stopped caring…? So far I’ve counted 72 coconuts.
I think I really just need something to do. I also took a book about homesteading and survival skills that I managed to keep with me. It was a hassle digging it out through all the shaking and crashing during the quake. As far as this cave, I had to find a way to live with its current inhabitants… the bats, bugs and scavengers. They don’t bother me much, for now at least… and I share the remains of fish and fruits with them. I am just happy that not all species got wiped out during the floods. Whomever you are reading this, I have a feeling you are in the same predicament as I am. Maybe there’s this big question constantly looming in your head, “Am I alone?” Its hard to tell with no source of news to turn to for answers. Then there’s the bigger question of, “What’s the point?” That’s what led me to write this here letter, mainly my deep depression I have been feeling.
On my long walks to search for other survivors I only end up counting bodies in the sand… making them up into family groupings and burying them properly so that the scavengers don’t get to them. Some, I use to make a big enough fire…. Don’t judge me, I just see it as cremation. I am a completely different being now, not so sheltered and sane as I was 72 coconuts ago. I wonder if you are alone? Maybe you are living with your family and have some sense of comfort there. If that’s the case I admire you, hell I envy you! This pen is running out of ink and I’m not really sure ill live long enough to write another letter. The last words I write will be my eulogy in case some other survivors find their way to this desolate place and find my body. I would want them to know that I could thrive in this cave, living with a mutual understanding between these creatures here. I want the next generation to know, there indeed is a chance for humanity and this time we can do things right.
P.S. I don’t miss anything I used to “Own”.