Priorities

     I used to have to worry about my bad habits. Disorders, really. Binge eating combined with my stagnant lifestyle of being a video game addict brought me to being borderline diabetic. Now? I'm in full panic mode and NONE of those things are my concern. I mean, I feel alive, and awesome, but I'm scared shitless. I don't know what to do next and there are probably loads of other things I should be doing in these brief moments of rest instead of writing a journal. I'll start at the beginning and give you the big picture. Well, big picture, but in a nutshell.

     I'm Michael. One month ago, when this all started, there I was, on my sad little throne. Don't judge me too harshly. Life is hard and I'm a guy with a lot of problems. Video games were one of those problems, maybe the biggest... but they were all I had. They were my life, now that I think about it. Weird. Instead of friends, I had games. Instead of life progress, I had food. Instead of grabbing onto anything healthy in life and pulling myself out of my crippling depression, anxiety, regret, and anger issues, I just retreated into my murky, dark space- both in reality and in mind- and let myself die, each and every day. The binge eating and stagnant lifestyle brought me to prediabetes. It's what you get when you're right on the borderline of having actual, irreversible diabetes, but still have a chance.

     My mom called me in from my pathetic dungeon to see some news reports of "madness like behavior" that started in India. Of course everybody and their mom (that means me and my mom, too) started with the zombie jokes. Well, two weeks later it wasn't a joke. The military was everywhere. Most of our city was in quarantine. Soldiers stood at checkpoints or stations all day, and they all had the iconic biohazard suits you'd see in the movies. They had M-16 rifles, too. Warriors and wardens alike, I suppose.              By the next week, whole cities across the US were quarantined and no news was allowed to broadcast out. In one of the cities, I think it was a suburb on the east coast, there was a whole lot of mayhem. Whatever it was, people or zombies, the military couldn't handle it. They wrecked the military's control over the area entirely and everything got out. Video clips from the news, vlogs from people hiding and scared, texts, radio communications- the info-levy broke and the whole world knew what was up. And that's a very scary thing to witness. Looting, all sorts of law breaking, even killing. Not to mention what everyone else did. Yeah, I'm not proud of any of the stuff that happened, but it was all for my family. I didn't hurt anybody except for when they were gonna hurt me. At least they can't be zombies, now. I heard you gotta be alive and bit.

     Two weeks later, and here I am, day one of the official end of society, and maybe the world, too. Everything's such a contrast. Life never used to be so important to people before, me included. Now? Not one breath can be wasted. Not one hour of daylight can be squandered on something trivial. Everyone is sacred and we don't take chances on strangers. We loot, we gather, we hide, we run, and...

     And I've never been happier. Before, when I was raging at video games and stuffing my face with calories, I wasn't just ignoring my lack of friends or talent or happiness, I was ignoring myself. I was a loser, and I knew it. Nobody ever befriended me because it was a good idea not too. I couldn't look myself in the mirror or else all the stupid failure that is my life would come rushing back, and I'd be disgusted. I wanted to die, so, so badly. I was even in the hospital for a couple days. Told them I wanted to die and I don't trust myself right now, and they helped me out. But it didn't make things better. Each day was just another reminder of what I hadn't become. The world set my standards so high and I never had the motivation or esteem to go get any of it.

     But with the world ending, everything is suddenly so simple, and I can help so much! Survival is the only option, the only job, and just living to my next day is considered progress. The food is rationed, so it's not like I can stuff myself again. And the video games don't even work! I've never felt more free, and I've never felt more proud of myself. I know it's forced progress, but it still counts in my book and I don't care what anybody says. Why couldn't the zombies have come sooner?