In a zombie apocalypse most times we’re faced with 2 choices, either get bitten or fight for survival. As humans our survival instinct would kick in and most of us would want to fight to survive. Then there’s me. I’ve actually thought about this quite extensively and realized, what exactly am I fighting to survive for? I mean the world is fucking ending (not like it was even great in the first place) so what am I surviving for? I’d definitely be among the first to get bitten.
Now imagine your body goes through this process of fighting to survive or die quite often. That's how I feel each time I have to get admitted to the hospital for a crisis. So why do I keep fighting to stay alive when my body has told me time and time again that there's a fault in it's build? Why do I keep struggling to survive in a body that is its own zombie apocalypse? I've sat with my thoughts for a minute trying my best to rationalize it as best as I can.
Whenever I fall sick, I always contemplate posting it on my social page(s). Many times I don’t, but sometimes I still do post it, not cause I’m looking for sympathy (honestly i get tired of replying to every 'sorry man' message), rather so my friend’s know I’m fine, so my office knows I’m not lying, and I tend to try and use humor to diffuse an already tense and awkward conversation around the frailty that is my life. But what happens when the humor doesn’t work anymore (as it happened today), then I’m forced to sit with that revelation that my body is actually fighting to give up on me. And frankly that feeling is the gloomiest feeling I’ve ever felt. And I almost want to give up, till one of you sweethearts do something for me. From as small as just sending a cute picture to distract me from my thoughts to buying me lunch or even just keeping me busy with a call. And in each of these moments I’m reminded why I fight.
I realized the why? Love. The love of my friends and family. That's honestly the reason I keep trying. Because if I honestly told you how many times I've contemplated just saying game over and letting the zombies win, you'd be shocked at how high the number can go (and that's just for the month of November). I mean if I died (morbid I know, but stay with me), would it really be that surprising? A boy living with sickle cell finally died from a health related complications, that's not necessarily news is it? But yet I keep fighting, I keep being strong. Why? Because of the relationships I've built around me. I owe it to them to at least try.
I can’t promise I won’t have these dark thoughts again. I can’t promise that I’ll find my will to survive the apocalypse. It sucks trying to be strong for everybody else when everything in you just wants to break down and quit. And honestly, I’ve lost my will to live so many times. Yet each time I lose it, I find it in one of my friends/family. You’re the reason I keep trying. And I’ll continue trying and fighting and being strong for as long as I can fight. I won’t give myself up to the zombies... At least not today.
