The land of Walking Dead

 

They said, "Take the trip. See the world. Embrace the experience." So I got off at the station. I wanted to see and embrace the world. It was beautiful, it was stunning, it was more joy than I can contain. Or express. But it wasn't real. The train is gone. And I am now faced with the reality of the station and what it means.

Now I spend my days hiding behind thick walls. Hiding from the ones outside. They are all too real. They all smile and say wonderful things. But they are truly monsters. To them I'm nothing but the fresh meat entertainment of the moment. So I hide. I eke out an existence. A desperate day by day struggle to maintain my three points of contact. My health, my spirit, and my sanity. I can't win. It's a matter of time. In this land of the walking dead there is no future for me.

The dead never tire. They never get sick, they never get old. They never feel pain. But I hurt soo much and I am very tired. It has been a long time since I've seen the inside of a welcoming home and heart. I'm not sure I'd recognize honest sincerity even with proof. Did the ones on the train realize what awaited me at the station? Did they think I would fit right in, in this land of the damned?

I hide and I tell myself it's going to be okay. You are okay. But the dead know otherwise. Every day is a struggle. The only victories being surviving till noon and then to midnight. You begin to wonder, what's the point? Why not just let them take me? At least then it would be over. Is it worse to torture yourself and hide? Or surrender to the dead, at their mercy? I could fight. I have fought. And I have lost and I have won and the only thing I know is that it doesn't make a difference.

In the land of the dead the living matter as much as the ants you walk on, on a summer day. If only to find another living soul. I have placed a beacon. I have called out in the dark. But all around me is dead. All that's left for me is pain. If God were here he'd sit and have a drink. Play a hand of cards. Wait with me at the station, until a train came to get me. He would save me from this place. He would put his arm around me and tell me there was a purpose to this. He would tell me that I'm not forgotten. He would tell me what I did and that I'm forgiven. But God's not here. I wonder what he thinks of the walking dead?

While I hide it's the loudest in my heart. When I venture out it's the loudest to my body. When the night comes it's the loudest to my soul. That pain lingers on well beyond a time of counting. The walkers don't care. Whatever moves them is on a different plane of reality from where I stand. They don't care their affect. They don't care their actions. They don't even care what they do with themselves or their peers. If any three words summarize the walkers it would be, "They don't care".

So if you understand me. If you understand this. If you're lucky to see it and your on the train. Don't believe them! It's a lie! There's nothing wonderful away from the train. There's nothing to embrace but the pain of the wilderness. There is no experience beyond that of disillusionment abandonment and the abyss. If you understand me and you've already been fooled. And you hide from the walkers as I. You don't know the reasons for it. Find me. Have a drink and play cards. Come with me to the station until the train comes to take us home. Away from this place. Away from these Walking dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Be safe. Trust few. Form a group and travel in it. If you can, save me. If you can't, I truly wish you all the best. Good luck and God's speed.........