Rough Draft: I am Undead

I couldn’t tell you when the change took place. It wasn’t the transformation of a night but the slow work of days and nights, days following nights and nights following days, of waking up sore and sleeping hungry, of losing friends and forgetting—what is it I forgot?—of living like one of them, soulless, more animal than anything, it was this, the persistent wearing away. I don’t know when it started, how it happened, but yesterday there was a moment, a sudden clarity.