Zombies exist.

They’re the people you pass on your 23-foot walk to your cubical from the elevator, typing away ever so passively at their computers, waiting for the clock to strike 11:45 AM so they leave for lunch. But only to come back and do it again only with a slightly different time in mind.

They’re the people you see in the stores, dropping hundreds of dollars of not-so-hard earned blood for the latest gizmo to entertain them while they pass the time at work. They’re the ones tripping over the sidewalk while they text their newest friends, looking for a fast fuck or a night to forget.

They’re the people sitting in front of you in church, daydreaming away while the priest tries his hardest to rekindle the flame. They’re the people blindly following what they’ve been told is right, half heatedly saying memorized prayers to fit in with the countless others doing the same exact thing. They’re worshiping what they don’t believe.

They’re you.

They’re me.

They’re everyone.