Until Further Notice
I braved the storm today. Masked up, arms bare. Dystopian mode operational. Filtering out the sandy wisps. Scouting out the wasteland for some pasta and a couple packs of crisps. I’m the protagonist of this story. Britain’s answer to Mad Max with snacks instead of gas. A tribute in the Hunger Games, satisfying hunger pains. Legs burning like the turning wheels on a red iconic bike. I refuse to be left to fester Fuck New York Escape from Leicester . Is what I’d like to say. I don’t think I could survive another day without turning my life into some kind of tv show. Pretend this is all scripted; That I could’ve predicted how fast they wrote the plot twist in it. And how in just one minute, it wiped out half the cast. I thought I wanted chaos and disruption. My own personal dystopia. Be a hero. The survivor. Find the cure. Scavenge the supplies with Katniss in the cornucopia. But there's n...