WASTE • Carl Grimes

One

I was a child when I wrote this and English isn't my first language if I see u bitches saying shit about my spelling I'll come for u I WAS A KID, thanks enjoy 😝

I walk through the heart of the forest with empty eyes, a loaded gun, and a bloody pocket knife whilst proceeding to push past a crap load of the dead that I had just killed.

The forest is where I always am now. I used to reside in abandoned homes for as long as I've been out here for until I realized that it was always the same life threatening routine wherever I go:

Find a house, scan the house for any threats, clear the house of the dead, look for food, and leave when a hoard suddenly appears out of nowhere.

It's not like the forest is any safer, but I'm more aware of my surroundings when I'm out there than I am when I'm hiding somewhere with a roof over my head.

Nowhere on this earth is safe anymore, it really doesn't matter as long as I'm able to survive.

A light sigh escapes my slightly parted lips as I keep my knife in hand, scanning the area around me for any animals to hunt and feed on.

But as usual, I'm met with nothing but trees and crispy leaves beneath my sore feet.

I huff in defeat before plopping down under an old tree and push open my backpack, pulling out a can of pineapples.

Cringing at the blood coating my fingers, I proceed to open the can and pull out a ring of pineapple, sighing as I pop it into my mouth and look around, admiring the wonders trashing the forest.

The only sound filling the dead aroma of the forest was the chirping of a hundred birds from all over the place, and of course, a few distant moans and growls.

I listen to the birds singing while looking up at the bright blue sky, chewing on another ring of pineapple as a few thoughts dance in the back of my mind.

Thoughts of how my life would've been if all this wasn't a thing. Thoughts of what my life would've been like if I had a group, and of who I would've been if I wasn't on my own.

I don't ever want to be surrounded by any people, I love being on my own. Caring for anyone else would be just another burden that I'd have to carry over my shoulders.

Finding other survivors and joining their groups, means that I'll eventually care for them as well as having all the emotions that took me years to get rid off, back.

And I don't want that to happen. Because I know that everyone'll die in the end, and so will I someday. And I don't want to care for someone just for them to die after they earn their spot in my heart.

And in order to keep that promise to myself, I kill everything and everyone that I come across mercilessly, not feeling a single hint of guilt as I do so.

Killing + not having mercy= Surviving.

Sparing a life + having mercy= Death.

It's really just simple math.

My thoughts are cut off when I hear a couple of twigs snap not too far away from where I am planted, quickly building my guards back up.