Narrated by 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥, the misanthrope that rules the world.

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Dying is easy. You just lie down and it arrives. It’s staying dead that’s the hard part. Every moment you are hoping for the sweet feeling of release, of relaxation after stress, of your name being called by the heavens themselves after being stuck in a waiting room that humans labelled ‘life’. It’s a mere and utter waste of time.

Anyway, every time you wish to… well, die, there is always a force that holds your eyes open and drags you to your feet. This is something called ‘resilience’. A disgusting word that forms a frustrating disturbance of the tranquil void of death. Even reading the word is a bitter taste on my tongue. Fortunately, resilience is always ready to waver and finally unlock the door you have been yearning to wrench open. This is a common fact that humans deny and misconceive to be incorrect. However, every mortal, like you, dear reader, is ready and even welcoming my arrival. It’s irrefragable.

But resilience isn’t the only hurdle. In fact, it is the smallest. It is a molehill compared to the next. The only 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 thing standing in your way is… well, being undead. A zombie, as others like to call it. Most, even you, believe zombies don’t exist and are the most idiotic and stupid piece of lunacy that one could have the most unfortunate thought of. This is immensely wrong. The undead do not choose to crawl out of their graves like cats desperately escaping the treacherous clutches of water, no. A zombie is a person that had finally exited the uneventful and cruel clutches of the world, but got rudely disturbed by one that rivals 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 more than anyone. It’s called the ‘Waker’. How could one even hear its name and not wretch at the sound of it? Life was already rather contumacious, but with another obstacle in the way? Just revolting. Really just revolting. That’s enough of talking, now, you can get on with your… human occupations… I hope you don’t see me soon!

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