Hello dear reader(s)!
I wish I could say that this is fiction, but unfortunately, it seems as though it is all too real. This will surely be the final Christmas for humanity. Though scholars may point to the looming Trump Presidency, the consumer culture, the divided nature of the world, mass extinctions, or climate change, I hope that this documentation of our final days will reveal the actual truth of our demise.
This post contains graphic depictions of real events some people may find disturbing. For that reason, reader discretion is advised.
6:31 am: The effects of the medication, while delayed, were obviously quite dramatic. I attempt to lift my head from the pillow, but it feels like I am being held down. My bladder is sending signals to my brain that it has reached its natural capacity, and it would be a good idea to empty it. Yet, I see that the world remains rather dark through the windows, and lay my head back down before returning to sleep once again.
7:37 am: The nearby child of the village has stirred, awakening me from my slumber. I try to take a deep breath, in order to get out of the bed, but breathe in some saliva or something and get thrown into a massive coughing fit. My bladder once again has let me know of its unhappiness with the situation, and each cough leads to worry of an accidental emptying. I attempt to lift my head off the pillow once more, but am unsuccessful. I think to myself that it is like something I used to wake up for, has been taken from me, and now I lack the basic motivation to live. I reach over, and grab my phone, to surf the book of faces. I post a status update, and soon, I am back asleep.
8:22 am: My bladder is screaming at me. Despite lacking any motivation to live, I can feel that my bladder has plenty of motivation. Soon, even my unmotivated mind realizes that it had better get motivated in order to avoid wetting the bed. I finally decide to get up to empty my bladder, but have every intention of returning to bed once I finish and wash my hands.
8:24 am: The nearby child of the village signals that he is in the bathroom. His voice can be heard from my bunker. The fan of the bathroom echoes through my ears, laughing mockingly at my bladder. As the tears stream from my eyes, my mind considers gathering the empty water bottles I have yet to clean from my bunker. I do not want to resort to such measures, but will if I have to. I wait with crossed legs.
8:34 am: The nearby child of the village has left the bathroom. The bladder is saved! Despite this excellent news, I still find it difficult to get out of bed. My motor functions are slowing. Something is definitely wrong. Could it be the medication? I feel like a zombie.
8:37 am: I finally get out of bed and make it to the bathroom. I did not have an accident, but likely only made it with a tenth of a second or so to spare.
8:41 am: After washing my hands, I exit the bathroom and head back toward my bunker in order to find my glasses, so that I can see the looming threats on the horizon. I walk around my bed, which calls to me. I struggle to resist the call of the bed, knowing that I really should get up. I successfully resist, and obtain my glasses. I question why I fought as I make my way down the hall into the village kitchen. I wander into the kitchen, feeling as though as I am on autopilot. I walk toward the cupboard wherein my beloved espresso machine lies, and am suddenly faced with the knowledge that humanity has seen its last Christmas.
8:44 am: I pass by my beloved espresso machine, and instead grab the toaster. I plug it in, and make myself a bagel in a fog, knowing that none of us will survive, because yesterday, my doctor told me I am not allowed to have coffee. I wait for the inevitable fall of civilization.
May Goddess forgive us.