The definition of “value” is completely different now. The things everyone considered as cheap are worth everything, and all the stuff people spent their lives working for isn’t worth anything at all. Canned food is worth more than food that spoils, a good Jeep is worth more than a delicate, flashy sports car, and walkie-talkies are more valuable than a network cellphone that needs both service and a charger. Computers are one of the few things that relatively keep their value. I dumped a lot of my stuff after the first week, mostly sentimental shit. First thing I threw out was a collection of shells my dad used to send to me on holidays; they’re in the bottom of one of the canals downtown. I don’t regret it though ’cause they would have just made me feel worse. Everything now looks like empty torn up shells. All the buildings, all the people. Maybe if you put your ear against a zombie’s mouth, you can hear a city, or a ringtone, or maybe a youtube video, some sign of civilization. All you’d really hear is the zombie chewing on your head, though. I really like looking through old houses, which is sentimental, I guess, but it’s something I would have enjoyed a couple months ago but never would have been able to do. It’s cheap amusement; I can follow the lives of people through the empty husks they left behind. It’s kind of like my TV. The rich houses on hills are nice if you can get them, the zombies have to do manual labor to get up there. They have good stories, and sometimes I keep the keys of certain ones for when we move around. I also take things I like, jewelry mostly. The more worthless something is, the more I like it. I have a mini toaster that’s one of my favorite possessions. The only measurement of value nowadays is how much you like something. I find it refreshing; my opinion is important now. I can’t keep too much anymore, but small, light things are alright. Jewelry is particularly funny to me since it’s worth less than trash now and there’s hardly anyone to appreciate it besides yourself. Zombies aren’t going to care about how pretty that Tiffany’s necklace is. I collect diamonds when I can find them, mostly out of spite. I know how to check houses for “valuable” stuff really well, which is surprising because I never looked through houses before the apocalypse. It’s psychology more than anything. I might have made a fairly good burglar. It bums me out though when I can’t take cool stuff with me. I have run into a couple of things that are too big or impractical to take back. There was a really nice Star Wars pinball machine that I’m still bitter about. I can’t decide if life is more meaningful now or not. A couple months ago it was like when you say the same word over and over again until you can’t remember what it means. Now all the words are new again, but there’s hardly anyone here to talk to.