When the zombie apocalypse inevitably comes, please let me die and then come back as one of the undead. Don’t save me. Don’t try to fight off the zombies. No matter how much I scream or beg, let me go. I know it’s for the better.

I would like to give a whole-hearted “good luck” to all of you who have a plan to stay alive. Have fun. I will not be joining you on this journey simply because it’s too exhausting. I would rather become a zombie than spend the rest of my days hopping from shelter to shelter and constantly living in a state of fear and anxiety. That’s a no from me, chief. Let me die early.

My anxiety is already dreadful in normal everyday life. Assuming my therapist has become a zombie (R.I.P. Debbie), I will not want to go on with crippling anxiety and lack of sleep for fear that zombies could attack at any moment. Do you really want me in your group? When you were planning your zombie apocalypse team did you carve out a space for an anxiously blunt woman who will fight if she must but would rather give up? No, you didn’t. I don’t want to end up on a losing team filled with people like me, so just let me die in the early stages. Let me be Patient 27.

Something I’ve come to learn about myself the older I get: I need a stable home. Growing up with divorced parents, I could barely hang on as a pre-teen with two homes. I know it’s not a good idea for me to be hopping from shelter to shelter. See the above anxiety description for the reason I need a stable home.

In addition, my mid-back pain will for sure come back. I will complain about my shin splints roughly four times a day. I know my chiropractor will already be a zombie by that point (R.I.P. Dr. Gordon). Did you make space on your zombie apocalypse team for someone with back issues? No, you didn’t.

Weak link, you say? You’re absolutely right. Let me be Patient 27.

To my future partner, let me go. Don’t try to protect me. Don’t try to save me. Obviously, you need to give me a good out. What I’m saying is… I can help you. Use me as a decoy or a sacrifice or a distraction so you can get away and live. I will gladly die so you all can go through the next decade clinching to survival every day. Memorialize me. Speak to others about me. But also, move on. I chose to part from the zombie pandemic. Find someone new who wants to survive as badly as you do. Make sure they’re ready to fight alongside you and do whatever it takes to survive, because I sure as hell don’t have the energy for all of that.

I’m not saying I’ll die off at the first sign of trouble. Like I said, let me be Patient 27. I take zombie apocalypses very seriously, so the second patient zero happens, we are packing up and enacting the plan. Include me in the first few steps of your plan, but assume I’ll die off around part five.

For example, if this was your plan:

1. Board up all doors and windows to house
2. Pack a go-bag for each person with essentials including but not limited to: gun, ammo, canned food or bag food, money, lighter, etc.
3. Gather the kids (God forbid if I’m married and we have kids) and make sure they know the meet-up points and passwords in case we get separated
4. Have a backup plan for where to go and stay when our home becomes unsafe


5. Fight for survival every day
6. Hunt for your meals
7. Take shifts while sleeping
8. I didn’t plan this far because I won’t need to because I’ll be dead by this point

I admire you all for your detailed plans on how to survive the zombie apocalypse. One pandemic has already happened in my lifetime. I don’t want another. I don’t know where this urgent need to survive is coming from but good for you. I’m so happy for you.

Me? I’ve lived a good life. I’d rather not finish my life off by wasting my time fighting off zombies for 5-30 years when I could have just died from the get-go when it still mattered.

So please, let me be Patient 27.