Chapter 1
I have no idea how old I am. The Earth died when I was,eighty years old and there are no calendars; That is I never cared to make them. I do not care to track time it’s meaningless. I don’t like to think I am over 100 but I must be. I remember when the last bombs were dropped. Everyone was dying. Everyone I loved, all those I despised and hated, are all gone. My survival possibilities were limited. It was doubtful that I would survive, but I did. Maybe it’s some kind of punishment for my loathing of mankind. I never liked the wars, the deceit, the, greed etc. The complaints are endless. I never thought of myself to be like other humans, but I must have been. Perhaps my view of my fellow humans was some kind of self loathing? Who knows and I don’t care anymore. I’ve often thought that I couldn’t be the last human alive. Though I’m isolated logically there must be some surviving communities out there. I just never had the ambition to venture to find them. It is better to be alone than to have nagging people around, especially those who preach happiness but they themselves were incapable of happiness. “Life is it’s own answer . . . ” Ray Bradbury once said through one of his characters. I’m going to sleep now, perhaps this is the one I’ll not awake from. Who am I talking to? All the ghosts left behind to Haunt me here…
