He smiled, as he always did in times like this. The times when I couldn't, when it was too hard, inappropriate, or any number of things that kept the corners of my lips from turning skyward, he would always grin; that made everything better, somehow. I need all the hope I can get now, and he knows that, so he keeps smiling.
I wish I understood why it was so cold. It never got this cold; I hadn't even seen snow until four days ago, and now I wish it had never come. White was always my favorite colour, it was innocent, pure. All those cliche things that mean something to someone. I don't try to understand it. What I do understand is that I know that white isn't so pure anymore, innocence hides this frigid malice.
I don't trust it anymore. He does, he always will. Even now as he's melting some down so we have something to drink he smiles, knowing we'll make it out of here perfectly fine. I wish I had his faith. This paradise has become so desolate, so empty, so quickly that I just don't have any hope at all. Maybe this is what SAD is like. If so, then I feel so much pain and sorrow for those who have that disorder. I can't imagine living for months feeling so desperate for light and warmth. I'd kill myself.
I should stop writing and help him with getting a fire going. We're trying not to burn anything varnished, but it's hard to get a fire going with wooden spoons and cabinet doors, especially on linoleum. But he keeps working, knowing that in just a few hours we'll be found. He's been saying that since Monday. Wednesday has come and gone and we haven't seen so much as a flashlight out the window. I'm scared we're the only ones alive, but he's convinced someone will find us soon. He just keeps smiling, cracking jokes. I don't know how he can joke in this situation, but he's always been that way.
I wonder if it's natural for two people stuck together to feel strongly about one another. Love or hate, I think one or the other is inevitable. Maybe that's just my justification for my feelings about him. I never thought it'd be him I'd be stuck here with. Parents out of town, home for winter break from college, having my best friend over. I didn't know he could build fires. Hell, I didn't know that this weather, this frigid apocalypse was going to occur, but it did, and here we are, stuck here. The only thing keeping me from going insane is his smile, his determination, and just his presence.
I think... I think that if it comes to it, I'll burn this notebook. If it comes to either freezing or losing my account of this time, well, these words aren't important enough to keep. We do what we have to to survive. Some of my favorite poems are in here, tales of crushes, math lessons; everything is contained in these pages. Now I write to keep myself sane, and maybe, just maybe if we get out, remind me of this icy hell.
He's got the fire going now. The smoke alarms haven't gone off since Tuesday, but I'm pretty sure we just decided to take out the batteries. I can't remember now, really, but it wasn't important. The warmth feels nice. Even wrapped up in four blankets and a winter coat I've never been this cold.
I haven't eaten, so I think I'm going to stop writing, at least for a little. Rick found some old ramen noodles in a closet, and I think we're going to have those. We have enough food for maybe two more days if we ration it well. I hope someone comes. I don't want to die here.