To be or not to be, that is not the real question to ask, the real question is to survive or not to survive. Or to run or not to run. However, you can’t run when you’re surrounded by a metaphorical ocean. The ocean is filled with all your fears, and phobias, and the can’ts and the impossibles. You have to focus on the needs not the wants. Survival is something that teether on both the wants and needs. We want to survive, but our primal instinct makes it a need. You are the only one that matters, hell, the only one that might be alive in this apocalyptic wasteland.
I yearned for an island once, to be alone. I received the alone bit, for I might as well be a shipwreck survivor. I wished for piles of money, but the only thing that’s good for is kindle. I dreamt for peace, although I got peace and quiet; beggars can’t be choosers. Well I almost quiet, I get the groans and shuffled of the “Starved”, complete monstrosities that don’t deserve life. Call the starved what you want, walkers, infested, and yes, zombies.
Such a cliche way to be in apocalypse. No amount of zombie games, television, or movies could prep you for this Hell, I call the New Life. I used to label self myself as a survivor, but how can I when I’m dead inside.
I am Noah Ripper, and welcome to life in an apocalypse.