I’m tired, not dead thank God, but tired.

I’ve settled on a new routine since the last time I wrote: Wake up, wash my face, and hide from the savages. The struggling societies have finally broken apart and now the island is ridden with desperate and tired people. I’ve seen people kill people, people eat people. and in some unsettling instances, people wearing other people. So running away from my problems is definitely justified in this case.

Every now and then I’d visit Benny when I get bored of being tired and feel like being sad.

He’s hanging in there.

But today, something new happened. I’ve been around the island enough to have seen all the people who trek these sandy paths but today I saw someone new.

He was a tall strong build, definitely not someone I’d want to take on even if I have to. Short hair, clean, and most importantly, not desperate.

Everyone who comes to this island breaks into a crazed frenzy trying to look for their supplies and the nearest hole to crawl in but this guy just stood there all square-jawed and silent.

He stood tall and grounded and as he surveyed the landscape for something useful he looked my way.

So I ran, and I don’t know what to make of what I saw.

It was 2PM when I woke up from the kitchen table. My head was pounding and I felt terribly sick and sore.

My heart sunk when I saw the manila folder and its contents scattered across the table. All the memories from yesterday came rushing back.

...

Everyone at work pretended like they didn't know me. Even my boss. I stepped into his office as he was sipping his morning coffee. He heard me alright. But I knew he wasn't listening. Just waiting.. waiting for security to come and take me away.

I was pissed. I punched the window outside the office. I didn't give a fuck anymore. My whole life had turned upside down.

I spent the whole day sitting on a subway car lost in my own cloud of darkness. I watched people come and go. I thought about how lucky they were to live long fulfilled lives and how mine was cut so short.

It was 12AM when the cars stopped running. The first thing I did was head for the nearest bar to put an end my shitty night. Deep down I hoped this was all just a bad dream. A mistake.

...

I turned on my laptop to look at the news again. My name was still on the list. I took every bit of my strength not to throw my laptop out the window. I checked social media. Emails. Forums. People who were selected were already gathering into groups. Many were afraid. Some were pissed like me.

There was going to be a meetup near me with a few of the people. Maybe I'll go. Maybe I won't.

It’s been one week.

No amount of Bare Naked Ladies could scrub off the dirt on my skin.

Don’t get me wrong, personal hygenie is important to me but, being on this island just does that to you. I’ve already seen people who couldn’t make sense of this world off themselves. It’s to a point where I can see someone rip themselves open from the madness that I don’t even bat an eye.

As for me, I finally got into a groove.

Wake up, Cry, Then pretend that everything is okay, I even made some friends.

This guy’s name is Benny. He’s been on this island long enough to know where all the quiet places are. Away from the struggling, futile societies that are trying to emerge.

Always an optimist, he’d tell me that eventually it’ll all make sense.

So tell me Benny, as you hang in front of me. Did it even matter? Did all your preachings and plans for us even matter in the end?

You helped me forget for a time that what we were going through didn’t hurt and now I’m just hollow.

I’ll miss you for as long as I still have a heart but today was too much and I just wanted to forget and for that I’m sorry.

Come back damn it, don’t just exist in my memories.

I stayed up all night reading as much as I could about the population control program. There had to be some kind of angle here that I could use.. like a vague choice of words that would get this absurd program tossed out in court.

So I did research like my life depended on it. It did depend on it. And by the time the sun came up, my apartment floor was strewn with highlighted papers and sticky notes. I was starting to feel a solid case was coming together. I needed to show my boss this; I'm sure he'd be impressed by what I found. He'll want to keep me on the firm and will back me up.

I organized and clipped everything together into a manilla folder. Made a cup of coffee. Then headed out the door.

I just got back from the prep clinic. I’m still a little woozy from the drugs they gave me but I have to write down this down.

Before entering the island you must receive a government mandated surgery. First, the back of your head is numbed. Then after administering an anesthetic they slice your head open. Afterwards they implant a tiny pill that releases a powerful drug inside your after five years. And after five years you're whisked gently off into the afterlife in your sleep. It’s the same one that they use in lethal injections, go figure right? When I walked in, there were 3 doctors who quietly smiled at me. Well I say smiled, but their expressions lacked any warmth. There was a tall one, a short one, and a round one. “Take a seat” said the tall one as the short one readied the anesthesia. The round then took my hand and guided me to my chair. The short one strapped the anesthesia mask around my face and I pressed my head into the rest. I closed my eyes and counted backwards from ten. As soon as I said "9" the tall one placed his knife against my skull and began the incision. As she glided down my scalp, I could feel all of me flow out of my skull. All of a sudden, everything that made me was out of me.

The day I twisted my ankle chasing my brother down our stairs.

How much I love the color blue.

Odd thoughts, feelings, and memories.

Unreal, all of me was gushing out into the open desperately trying to escape.

Gradually, as I opened my eyes I felt myself coming back inside of me stitch by stitch

How can they do this to people?

Tomorrow, I have to wake up and walk into work and act like everything is normal and after that, that’s it.

Shit.

When I go into work, I have a simple morning routine I follow. I say "hello" to the front recepionist. He says "hello" back. I go to the break room to grab a cup of coffee, have a small chat with colleagues, and then I head to my empty office to begin my day.

But today, the receptionist didn't say hello. When I went to the break room, my colleagues immediately left, going the other way. And when I went to my office, it wasn't empty.

My boss was there, waiting and holding a roll of newspaper.

It's that time of the year.. this must be about my promotion

"Hello Michael" "Morning Dave!" "The partners and I wanted to express our sincere gratitude for all the great work you've done here." "I couldn't have done it without a fantastic advisor like you, Dave." "We're really going to miss you." My heart froze. "I'm sorry. What?" "We're really going to miss you." "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

It was my boss' turn to be surprised.

"You didn't watch the news? Nothing in the mail?" "No, I've just been focused on my work here at the firm." "I see."

My boss suddenly looked sad.

"I'll leave this here for you."

He places the newspaper face down on my desk.

"You're excused from any further obligations you have to our clients."

And with that he left me to discover my terrible luck. I was one of the first people to be selected for population control by the government.

It’s 3 am and I haven’t been able to sleep. My body spent the last 2 hours rejecting everything I knew about the world. My doctor prescribed to me an anti psychotic administered to everyone dreading their final days before their trip. Every hour since ingestion has blurred. My thoughts eat my thoughts and my face melted into my hands.

Reported side effects include: Nausea - check Fever - check Body aches - check Hallucination - full throttle

My hopes tasted like breakfast, my fears were as sour as my lunch, and my dreams were as grey as my dinner. Above all else, the shivering, the ice in my veins, the waiting was the worst.

As I grasped my sheets, pulling my bed over me I laid on my floor with only one thought pouring my head "What's Chris gonna do?" What's gonna happen to my little brother when it's his turn?

My doctor told me journaling is supposed to be cathartic.

What the fuck does he know?

My name is Kevin and I am 29 years old. I live with my younger brother in a two bedroom apartment off in the Under District of New San Francisco. We live a pretty simple life, we both work at the post office. He works the counter and I work the route and neither of us really asked for much more.

Tomorrow the office is throwing me a retirement party for my 30th birthday and unlike everyone else I’m terrified. 

They taught us the concept of aging in school but never really showed us what it looks like and in a few days I’ll be sent to Paradise Island to live off the last five years of my life.  Everyone else dreams about their 30th birthday, updating their “Big 5″ religiously, painting out the rest of their lives and I’m the kid in the back asking “What do we even look like when we grow ‘old’?” 

My name is Michael. I'm a lawyer living in Los Angeles. My typical day is heavily optimized to maximize the most I can get out of every minute:

6:00 AM: Wake up and hit the gym

7:00 AM: Shower and grab breakfast to go

8:00 AM: Arrive to work

12:00 PM: Get box lunch to go

12:30 PM: Go back to work

7:00 PM: Grab dinner to go and drive home

7:30 PM: Eat and watch an hour of TV

9:00 PM: Clean up and shower

10:00 PM: Sleep

There's never enough time. If only there were more hours in a day or if I didn't have to eat or sleep, I'd be able to get so much more done.

I'm planning to move closer to the firm so I don't have to deal with the commute time. There's a good chance I'll be made a partner soon and I don't want to screw it up especially since I'm the youngest.