I'm A Hairy Poop...

There was this girl last night... I can't tell you her name, 'coz I just don't asked her. But she recalled me my past life, I mean, the life I Used to live before I died. I think that's why I killed her... I couldn't stand these memories. They made my blood boil and my rotten flesh burn... Her cries made me forget.
I can't help it. Everytime I see the living, all I can do is to hate them, and I just don't know why but all I want is to kill them all, eating their guts and sucking their blood... And once they're all lying dead on the floor, then I start getting bored. You don't think about it, when you see zombie movies... How boring can be a living-dead's all day life...
Of course, when I realized that I was back from the grave, I found it so cool ! I had always been a Z-movies addict, and the fact of being living again, instead of lying in a coffin, it was enough, I thought, to please anybody. But time passes by, even for the undead, and very soon, you wish you could have some rest... Eternitty belongs to the real dead, those who remain six feet under ground for ever. As long as this little spark of life keeps on burning inside you, as long as you are, however, alive, time keeps on passing by. And, you know, when you don't have to eat or drink or breathe anymore, when you're left with nothing to do but hanging around, wandering that old cemetary's neighboroud, without any friend or drink, time seems all the more so still...
I don't know why I'm here, and I often wonder what made me rise from the grave. I'll never know, i guess... And I wish I had gone down to hell, rather than walking on this earth again. At least it would be hot... Life after death is very cold in this world, you know...
If only I had someone to speak with... I Really wish I didn't kill that girl. But I just couldn't help it, as I said. I HAD to eat her liver... And after that, she couldn't speak anymore, of course. So I can't speak to the living, and all the other zombies I've met didn't have anything to say, except moanings about God knows what. And yet, I saw the pain in their eyes, the same pain as mine... I guess our brains have been somehow altered by death, so we just can't think about something to tell anymore. We're damned to stay here forever, haunting that graveyard until the end of times... We are the dead, we are the wrecking crew and we are bored to kill. So what ?
What can I do ? I know things are going to remain the same until some zombie hunter wannabe smashes my head into pieces... Which won't happen that soon, according to the fact that all the ones who dared coming into this cursed place have already been eaten by my dead fellows. I can't find any rest, and I can't find any peace, So I guess I'm just going to keep on stalking the living and playing with their eyeballs. And I won't think about it all no more, because it's just as useless as trying to teach a horse how to read, and it makes you feel emptier and sadder than ever. But I'll tell you one more thing, before I leave : Please remember, next time you'll see some living-deads walking down the street, just remember how hard it is to live an undead life, and please have some mercy for us. Maybe this will help you to forgive them while they'll chop your head off.