I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.

I adapt to things quickly, including good things, which I wish I could shut off sometimes.

My friend "M" says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can't smile, because your lips have rotted off.

It’s not about keeping up the population, it’s about passing on who we are and what we've learned, so things keep going. So we don’t just end.

I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?

The past is made out of facts...I guess the future is just hope.

... we shoved out many hopes and fears into their hands, believing those hands were strong because they had firm handshakes. They failed us, always. There was no way they could not fail us - they were human, and so were we.