diary of a lover

3041, june 86

i am not sure what is language anymore. even now i sit with dictionary to my right, a rare thing to have these days. i was even more so lucky to find this tiny journal. it is the size of my right palm only because my left one is bigger. humans do not look like humans anymore. some of us have hardened scaly skin with disformed lobster claws.

the smoke did this to us.

it came green and wild, suffocated everything within its path. we can not fly. we could not outrun it. it barely touched the heel of my foot and i dont recognize what i see in the mirror of this tiny bunker.

yes. i am in what this dictionary calls a bunker. cramped, stuffy, and home. there are no nutrients here to sustain me much longer. but i don't kow know if the smoke is gone. but i am still scared to go above the surface. bad things always happen when you leave home.

we shouldn't have left home. earth home. i miss it.

next to me, in the bunker there was a drawer of useless juk junk. i am writing in pen, i can not find a pencil. there was expired gum, multiple thumb tacks and tacky piece of costume jewelry. i found it was tacky because it is plastic. carved on the back of the heart with children writing, was 'love you jessie'.

i don't know who used to live here. it hasn't been long since we've been on this planet. but i call this home, home is not supposed to be something you don't know.

according to the dictionary.

3041, june 94

i dont know how to count well. the date on this entry could be wrong, but who would be able to find this? i would hope no one.

i have been reveling in my dreams. dreams and memories are something i use to pass the time. i do not have much paper. i can not practice my writing skill as much as i want to. i have been studying the dictionary, but it doesn't seem to help. i feel lost a lot of the time.

things blend together.

i feel, i don't remember everything, that i used to be in love. i tried looking up the word love in the dictionnary but i feel more delusional now. i don't know how i feel.

emotions are a luxury, and i live in poverty.

june 116, 3041

it has come to my attention that i have been writing the date wrong. i have little paper.

i am still thinking about love. i have the little plastic heart next to me while i write, so it might lend me some of it's powers. would love be considered a power, should it be considered a power. in the dictionary the heart is necessary to live.

hearts are associated with love.

does that mean love is necessary to live. since i am not in love, does that mean i am not living?

june 119, 3041

i broke the locket today. the heart one. i was frustrated. i wasnt confused i swear to you. it just - it was mocking me. i had been thinking about love and the heart locket. the shattered bits of plastic where the back had said 'love you jessie' now bear a crack between the words.

it looked like hate.

yes, thats the word. why would you need hate when you have a much easier option? it isn't difficult to hate someone, it isn't difficult to hate something either.

my pen is ripping through the pages right now, i don't mean to do it either. hate is very powerful it seems. i should look for more words like it in my dictionary.

i dont know if love is what i need to live. i think love is what i need to be human, and i believe we all lost that a long time ago.

the broken heart locket is proof of it.