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Back to aimlessly wandering the streets, I guess. Man, it would be so awesome if there was a group, or a set of people, or even one single soul that I could pin down and get along with for an extended period of time. Insanity, it's actually insanity what these people are like. Some of them, namely Phoebe's group, didn't have their own survival at the top of their priorities. Others- actually wait, why did they, for one, have an unlocked office space as their so-called base of operations? What was their, for two, plan to accept those zombies when that group was so large that it would clearly exhaust their resources if nothing else? And for three, why did Phoebe think that group would ever hold together in the first place? Everyone was off doing their own thing. No one really tried to make a point to do things together.

I was nearly bit again. Being so far deep in my head that I didn't pay attention to my surroundings, a zombie, an honest-to-God, obviously clear and indisputable zombie lunged at me.

As much as I wanted to become mindful, especially in such a dangerous location while the sun painted its bloody hatred upon the darkening sky, I had the argumentative equivalent of an earworm drowning out my focus. Listen: was Phoebe careless? Although I only knew her briefly, it appears she took on a leadership role recently. Who could blame someone on their first try at a new role, especially while their world is changing chaotically? I've never even been a leader. How would I know what the right call would've been? What pillar do I stand upon? I'm nothing. She at least tried. I've so far gone whichever way others tell me to.

I don't think Phoebe did anything wrong, so much as she just never did it right. So did everyone else. And even that's harsh. From the little I saw of her, she put every bit of effort into what she did. Maybe it was trivial. Maybe she was blameworthy. Maybe she wasn't. What does their involvement matter when they've reaped the maladies of their actions? Maybe nothing could have been done, but their intention does not affect the reality of the present.

Maybe I was the one who didn't try, even in Nick's group. Yeah, that's what I was about to suggest. I could have at least tried to immerse myself in what his group was doing or get a feel for what kind of person he was. I can't help but feel like something else was guiding him, though, as if worms were steering his stinky head whichever way they wished. Honestly, he really did not smell right. Did not pass the sniff test.

I became argumentative back there- is that who I am? Am I someone who just starts a fight? I was trying to make friends. No one in their right mind would believe debating others makes friends. Was it me? Did I do this based on the environment I was in? I felt like I was running off of a script. I feel like Nick's thoughts plunged into me like a knife in my chest. He made himself suspicious. He looked paranoid, he was standoffish, he was a freak, and a mean one at that. I can't help but feel that no matter what I could've thought of, I was influenced by him. In some sense, I didn't really want to care about what they were doing or whether or not it was wrong. I just didn't know what other direction my thoughts should've gone after the way Nick introduced himself. Of course, it was all my actions; of course, I'm at fault for what I've done. But whether or not it's who I am- what I would have done under any circumstance, I'm not so sure about.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Another zombie stumbled towards me, swiped, and then tried to bite. I swatted her away while pushing them down with a kick. I can't help but see how close of a call it was. I wish I could be less careless.

But I can't stop ruminating on my situation. She so caused that mess: one-hundred percent her fault. Where is her group now? Where are my friends now? She didn't even try to make our group sustainable. Even if we had fared against the zombies, not everyone could have handled so much stimulation at the same time. Some people freeze up. And then what? They stop being social, and an entire group dynamic falls apart. I don't think she was incompetent; it did genuinely feel like she knew what she was doing. It just never clicked with her, however, that these zombies aren't human. They haven't behaved how we have. They don't act the way we do. Most importantly, they don't have the same drives we do. What they want, how they function, and what makes them operate are not the same as us, and thus, they cannot cooperate with us and vice versa. Maybe she didn't do anything wrong, maybe she seems like a person, but fault or not, she still led the group of…I guess survivors now…to a meat blender that is the end of their existence. The way they presented their habitat, the desire she held, the shaky and undisciplined foundation they built up their oh-so-perfect plans, all felt like she unwittingly made an inescapable trap.

I know that those who didn't try to connect with me after the group fell apart were my responsibility and mine alone. I really can't blame someone else for me not getting along with others. It's all my fault. I'm my own worst enemy. How could I pretend that I can associate with them, be among them when I've been nothing but a monster - a pest, a vermin, a creature so far beneath them? At least their interactions with one another were natural.

All this rage, all this pain, all this hatred, is there anyone I could get along with? Is that even a goal I desire? What point is there to associate with others when it is not a core need? To be me, do I need to associate with someone else who's like me? Will the sun set with my identity intact, and will it rise again with me remaining as I am now? I need food, water, and a goal to survive; would social interaction even matter? If it was, would it be fair to others to drain away my peers' resources, known as their time and energy? Would it make sense that an organism like me exists to drain the energy from those around me?

But even then, am I surviving now alone?

The iron grip the darkness held upon my mind was quickly eaten away, and another desire wriggled and squirmed its way into my thoughts. I was hungry. I was only going to get hungrier. I didn’t even have anything on me anymore. Although the imagination of eating food didn't occupy my mind, the need for safety against a hostile environment did. If I'm hungry, I can't run or fight. Luck would have it, I saw a food pantry up ahead.