It was fucked up, but the actual damn apocalypse might have made my life better. I knew it was terrible, hundreds of people died every day and yet it made my pathetic life better. You could almost laugh about it in a twisted way, literal walking dead people made it better.
Before this I had been useless really, I was a nobody going nowhere. I had accepted though, it was the life I had been giving and you play the hand you're dealt even if it was a shitty one. I was aware I would probably drink myself to death before I even turned fifty, but I had nothing to live for anywhere.
I was a useless puppet following my brothers lead without any question. I didn't know any different, I couldn't miss what I never had. I was like a robot taking orders and not allowing myself to feel, only pussys cried and I wouldn't let Merle see me do that.
I was a son of a bitch I knew that because after Merle was gone, after I thought my own brother, my flesh and blood was dead, I begin to feel happy. I knew it was wrong and fucked in so many ways, dead people eating people, but I was wanted, needed.
I wasn't useless redneck trash anymore, people wanted me around and as long as I didn't dwell to much on the fact it was only so I'd feed them I begin to feel happy.
I began to see Merle, though after he disappeared, reminding how I owed him how he saved my life. Dad would have beaten me till I died if Merle hadn't taken me to live with him once he got out of the army and yet here I was buddying up to the very people who killed him.
But I belonged for the first time in my life I felt like I had somewhere to be. People respected me and wanted me around and I was happy about people dying about my brother dying. I was in some deep part of me that I didn't like letting myself listen to I knew, I was happy he was dead.
He had held me back all these years and now I could finally leave his shadow. I could be around people without them just thinking of me as Merle's younger brother. Of course whenever these thoughts managed to break through my exhaustion I felt over whelming guilt of how could I ever even think something like that.
I knew I deserved every hit from my dad now, I was glad that my brother was dead even if I didn't like to admit even to myself. I deserved the scars that marred my back, I hadn't known it at the time but I did.
And even though I was happy now in my weird way.