No one can say exactly when war begins. Is it that first initial spark of hatred between two dictators which eventually become a catalyst for entire countries? Or is it a constant state, as natural to nature as existing? Cyclical, like life and death? Only there is no death, just waves of stagnant pauses. Pregnant with anticipation. The open space crackles with barbaric excitement until the spark is ignited once more. Is war like that?

Sometimes I try to remember the first conscious day I had as someone who was undead. Did I just appear in the airport, one day conscious? Not quite awake, but not quite dreaming. Looking back, my days as zombie were like that brief period of time between sleeping and waking. With every day I knew Julie, I slowly became more aware, until I was completely and fully awake. Alive. I still have no previous recognition as my former life as a human. Only my life as a human now. And my life as a human now is even more beautiful than I could imagine it being.

I finally exist.

And that is as magical as it is terrifying.