Flowers.
Letters.
Gifts.
Old photos.
Tears.
Lots of tears.
I've been to my own funeral.
I felt the love of those closest to me.
It was comforting.
I felt the regret of hurting them.
It was suffocating.
It left me translucent.
A ghost girl.
I wasn't dead,
But I might've well as been.
I drifted.
I haunted those that once knew me.
The most unsteady week of my life.
Now, through some sort of necromancy, I'm being resurrected.
Piece by piece, I'm coming back.
And I'll do everything I can to distract.
Try to make them forget that I am a zombie.