1. Every single day, the sun hangs low on the horizon, and its slanting rays fill you with dread at the horrors to come.

2. You’re not sure how you wound up making all the decisions for this ragtag group. You didn’t ask for this kind of responsibility.

3. Somebody has to do something, or everyone might as well just lay down and die.

4. By default, you’re Somebody. And now everyone relies on you for every goddamn thing.

5. Each night starts with an inventory. How can you stretch the supplies you’ve scrounged, desperate but efficient, while enduring a soundtrack of terrifying, banshee-like howls?

6. Your notion of “clean” has deteriorated to “clean enough.”

7. You’ve loosened your scavenging standards. You don’t much care if your group gobbles food straight from the ground or digs it out, near-fossilized, from the bottoms of long-forgotten backpacks and diaper bags.

8. Hydration is key to your survival, but finding a cup to drink from is fucking impossible.

9. Your group’s demands are never based on the way things are — they’re all gripped by fantasies of the way they’d like things to be, as if you’re all living in some perfect dream world. A world with unicorns and dragons.

10. You’re the only person who seems to understand that eating nothing but candy and chips acquired on an ill-advised trip to the gas station is a bad idea, and will end poorly for all involved.

11. In your unguarded moments, you remember what this time of day used to be like: sipping wine from a real glass, nibbling real cheese that wasn’t stolen, half-eaten, or abandoned. Cheese that belonged to you.

12. Every night, you have to drop everything and intervene before members of your party kill themselves or each other.

13. If you don’t get some real rest soon, you’re going to get sloppy, and it won’t be long before you turn into a goddamn zombie.

14. Sometimes, you think about searching for another place — someplace quieter, more secluded, maybe a little safer. But you also know, deep down, that it’ll be like this for a long time, no matter where you go.

15. For at least the next 18 to 20 years, this will be your life, and everything — absolutely everything — will be the end of the fucking world.

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Preparing dinner for children: 1-15
Starring in a post-apocalyptic drama:1-15