Dear Planet Earth,
With more websites like Twitter and YouTube back online and the unstoppable shakes finally stopped, I figured today would be a good day to leave the twelve foot by twelve foot room I’ve locked myself in for the past week.
There’s still no news from anywhere about what’s going on and my physical surroundings have become bleaker with every passing day. My friend and his family presumably abandoned their home here without bothering to say a “goodbye,” or a “good luck,” or a “you have to jiggle the handle on the upstairs toilet sometimes.”
I felt the last morsels of store-brand oatmeal dissolve in my mouth yesterday; this is when I decided it might be time to find my mom, resolve the therapy-worthy issues that we’ve had for the past seventeen years, and stock up on some more Captain Oatie. My mom wasn’t home, and from the looks of the furniture and pictures thrown around everywhere, she put up a struggle and was taken.
I’ve been waiting here for the past eight hours trying to allay my worst fears. It’s slowly starting to hit me, even as I type this, that I might not have a mother anymore. That my last words to her were “Go to hell.” That I could have prevented this.