October 13th 1665
The weather has got really cold now. The rats have been dying but people still get the plague.
I still feel bad about bringing this upon everyone. I am the reason so many people have died. It’s me. I feel burdened with everyone’s deaths. It’s like they’re trying to do it.
I walk down the street. The mud had gone hard. No one is ever in the streets. The local things are closed. The only people you see are Nurses, doctors and watchmen.
As I get closer I realize where my feet are taking me. Home. It would be nice to go home and talk to my family. But that is not going to happen.
I stop in my tracks and think of my grave. I sit there watching birds hop down onto grass. I wish I could be a bird. It would be good.
Thinking about birds the darkness clouds my mind.