ᒪIᐯIᑎG & D⃒Y⃒I⃒N⃒G⃒

What am I doing with my life? I need to get out more. I need to make some friends. God I'm so pale. And my posture is terrible. I should stand up straighter. People would respect me more if I stood up straighter.

What am I even talking about? There are no people. There is no one to talk to. This is the apocalypse. I'm dead. No ones gonna respect a dead person. A bullet to the head is probably all I'll get if I try to make friends. And even if they didn't try to shoot me, there is no guarantee I wouldn't eat them. Maybe I'm better off alone. Completely isolated. Forever.

I wish I was alive. The living are so lucky. They get to eat and sleep and dream. I get to drag my feet, make groaning noises, and eat people. I'm so lonely. I want to dream. I want to live.

I want to love.

But no one wants a smelly flesh eating corpse for a boyfriend. I'll never get to sleep or dream or live or love, because that's what the living do. I'll just be stuck in this lifeless body for all eternity. I'd give anything to be alive again.

I'd give anything to have love.