Nobody understands.

Seriously, nobody does. I don't know what happened, but I died. Like, two years ago. I always wanted to lose weight, but now you can see my bones. Really…you can. I'm just a shadow of my former self. Okay, I meant that to be funny, but down to business.

So…here I am. A walking corpse. I know I smell, but no matter what I've tried, I can't get the stank out. Good thing my nasal passages dried up a long time ago.

Two years ago there was some sickness going around. Lots of people got sick, including me. Then…I died. But then I started walking around! Great, right?

Wrong.

All my fellow dead-heads…I miss you, Jerry Garcia…started walking around too. Then the people who were still alive starting being real jerks and trying to kill us. Again. But it wasn't just a shot to the heart, and they're to blame…they gave love a bad name. Sorry, I miss listening to music.

The uppity people who were still alive would take hammers, guns, knives, whatever they had, and hurt my friends. It wasn't fair at all. All we want to do is talk.

Do you have any idea what it's like to be dead and have everyone ignore you? I'm like, hello…rude!

So, I'm hungry, because there aren't any places open. I'd give my left lung for a cup of coffee. Seriously, you can take it. It's all dried up anyway.

I'm starving, my clothes are in tatters, there are no places to go, and it's hella boring. No movie theaters, no malls, and some dumbass even knocked out all the power so I can't watch my shows. No Real Housewives ("real"..yea right. Like, did you ever see Botox Barbie?) No Breaking Bad, not even a Doctor Oz to help me find out why I'm freaking dead! I'd love to watch my favorite movie, Love Actually, but my DVD player won't work. (inside joke...hehehe!)

And every time…every freaking time I find shelter people come in and kill my friends. We just wanna say, "you, be cool, dude!" I've become an expert in hide and seek. I'm "winning" ha ha…yeah, Charlie's here too.

Anyway, one of my buddies overheard the living guy with the mullet talk about some kind of cure. I hope there is, 'cuz I'd like to be alive again. And the one guy who's with the "group" is a turbo hottie. Tell ya, if I were a few years older, and...well, alive, I'd be on him like white on rice.

So, I went into an old shopping mall with Monica "no not that one" and Kendra. Kendra doesn't have a nickname anymore. When she was alive she was really fat so we called her "Tundra Kendra." But now she's a bag of bones. Really…she keeps losing limbs. She has a backpack that holds her right hand and left arm. If she loses her legs we're leaving her where she is. She's a pain in the ass. If I had an ass anymore.

It took a while, and I lost a few fingers, but we looted a Macy's and got rocking clothes. I don't have boobs anymore, so no use in getting a push up bra. We spent almost three hours at the Estee Lauder counter, but Monica "don't call me kneepads" got me looking okay-ish.

I was gonna get that blue eyed guy. Purdy clothes, makeup, and a shit ton of perfume to hide the stank, and I'll do some flirting.

We went to the "safe zone" and crawled through a hole in the fence. Then Kendra…the pain in the missing ass (ha…see what I did there?) got caught and her hips plopped off. Gross, right? I mean, really.

I'm working on my greeting. Keep in mind I've lost my lips, tongue and vocal chords, so all that comes out is an "uuugh." But, I could make it a sexy "uuugh," right?

So, Monica "stop it already" and I are walking to the house where cutie pie lives. This kid, who is desperate need of a haircut, walks out and gives Monica "blue dress" a knife to the head, then when I raise my hands to surrender, trying to tell him "look, I come in peace," he gets me in the head too.

I tell ya, people. Humans just don't understand.