I've always been captivated by the idea of the world starting over. I picture a raw and primal existence where it's just me against the elements. I imagine waking up to the sound of birds instead of traffic, hunting for food in the forests, and sitting by fires under the starlight.
The world could end in many ways. A massive solar flare might knock out all electronics. There could be a nuclear winter. Perhaps a sudden ice age, a rapidly mutating virus, or an evil artificial intelligence. In each scenario, I see chaos, societies crumbling, and the old world fading away, leaving only those prepared to face the new reality.
My preparations are extensive. Beyond the survival skills learned from Grylls and Irwin, I've trained in governance, learned to fast for days, and adapted to living without technology. I’ve walked thousands of steps daily, ensuring I'm fit for the demands of foraging in a post-apocalyptic world.
But when the end actually comes, it's nothing like anyone would expect. The world changes in an instant. Mid-thought, mid-sentence, everything is interrupted by a sudden, shocking... Splat! Goddamnit, gone in the first wave.