I hate zombies.

For a few reasons naturally, but mostly because its an inevitability that they are going to get me.

Yes, I am of course assuming the Zombie Apocalypse is coming. Because it is. Eventually. After we lose all clean water, continue to mess with our food sources or release the megavirus; they’re coming. Therefore, when this happens, I have decided to sacrifice myself for you. You’re welcome.

These are the superfast Cillian Murphy and Brad Pitt zombies of course not the slow guys from Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. I could have probably maybe gotten away from them. See, I’m losing my ability to walk. Its a slow process overall I suppose not like being in an accident, but I feel like its almost a worse circumstance in a way. I’m just watching my accident in slow motion. I don’t know. I’ll tell that story another day…

But, I like to imagine my Grand Sacrifice would be at a moment when the hoard catches us by surprise, like they almost always do. We are out in the open searching for provisions. We thought it was safe. We were wrong. Now here they come running down the street as fast as they can. Snarling. Drooling. Making that choking-gagging horrific noise that chills me to the bone…

I turn to you. Grab your shoulders in a most dramatic way but not so much that you drop those super valuable items we just exposed ourselves to come out and get.

I look in your eyes. Try to block out the noise that is coming towards us.

You know what I’m going to say… you shake your head ‘no’…

But we have already had this conversation so when I say to you “Go. Run. SAVE YOURSELF!” in an even more dramatic way… you’re ok with it.

You protested when it was first discussed. We both cried. Mostly me. But you knew I was right. So you agreed.

You brought up the grand romantic gesture of staying with me so we could suffer the incredible pain of being eaten alive together and then becoming zombies together. I’ll admit, it could be fun. We could hunt the living together. But would we know? Would we remember our pre-zombie existence? Do the undead have consciousness? The Will Smith zombies perhaps. But would we know anything other than the taste for flesh and survival? A vague recollection of our previous lives like a dream you struggle to remember?

Let me leave the great zombie debate to the professionals.

So in any case, you run and I sacrifice myself for you. And anyone else around us. Please, join the party!

But other than this one sacrifice, in the Zombie world, you’re on your own. Sorry.

Right now I’m maxed out on helping my fellow humans. I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to help you. Or be able to care little more than getting choked up watching the news or seeing your touching facebook post. I’ll send you $10 a month for your cause, sure. But I can’t join in on that March/ Protest/ Girlcott to that terrible thing that happened/ is still happening. These cultural voids that separate us and keep us divided will persist. What I do or don’t do isn’t really going to matter. These perceived differences that separate us now in this world do not matter. Just wait until there really is an Us and a Them… when the Zombies come. Then we’re all the same to them anyway. Better get over whatever your issue is now and learn to live with one another. Cuz we’re all in the same boat eventually anyway.

So I don’t help. I don’t write to my Senator. Again, I’m just too busy feeling sorry for myself. Huge First World Problem Alert. I’m a terrible person. Yup. But just give me a few minutes. I’m getting used to this whole ‘ not being able to walk anymore’ thing and I might grow on you. Cuz I’m not really a terrible person. I’m just heart broken.

Until next time…