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Personal Narrative: Is It Worth Dying To Find A Woman?

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Personal Narrative: Is It Worth Dying To Find A Woman?
I looked around and observed the ground beneath my feet. The atmosphere crawled with a moisture that slapped my clothes with water from the trees above. When my confusion came to an end, I decided to go for a hike. Honestly, I hoped to find the woman from the previous night, so that she could give the questions I was dying to rid myself of, an answer. Trying to find a woman in an intense forest felt like trying to find the right receipt in a purse consisting of countless useless items. I never found the woman, but I'd found something that was far worse. A human. It sounds bizarre to say that when a man stepped within 1,000 feet of me I could instantaneously feel a hunger for new skin, and a crucial need to run. Running seemed to be a breeze:
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