It took a lot of getting used to, realizing that the living dead weren't really out to eat us.
There was a lot of horror involved for the 'survivors' when we started to understand that the things we shot and hated were actually thinking, feeling beings. It's a little like unplugging something to charge your phone, only to realize that the plug was for somebody's respirator. We're lucky they were so forgiving. There'd been a misunderstanding of massive proportions - they had been trying to ask us to lead us to our dead, not to have us join them.
They only eat those who've perished already. Now, we've got a system going, where those who either opt-in (like a lot of vore enthusiasts) or are unidentified upon death end up on a zombie family's dinner plate. They don't have to eat continually, as far as Emily will tell me.
I've got a family of them that live next door. I kind of think of them a little bit like... like a family full of mentally retarded people. I don't even mean that in a derogatory way. They're like children. In a lot of ways, they don't really understand a lot of social conventions anymore, either because there's not enough brain left to process social cues, or because they never really got it when they were alive to start. I don't really mind.
They love the simple things. Every day is Christmas. They feel everything strongly, one emotion at a time, like Tinkerbell. Sometimes I think there's a weird wisdom in that, putting your whole heart into a feeling. Maybe it's because they know what it's like not to be alive. Maybe it's because their heart is literally the only thing left. Who knows?
I like them. I do. I try not to think of the tens I shot in the forehead with a Beretta .9 and how many friends I could have had if I'd put it down. But that means I won't hesitate to defend my next door neighbors, seeing as not everyone believes they're not out to eat all of humanity. And they're out there. Someone left a flaming bag of dog crap on Emily's dad's door, nearly set him ablaze. There's nothing sadder than seeing a zombie stare out in lip-quivering sorrow, with an expression that pleads why, while his leg is on fire.
You are your only barrier, so break free and write as you will! 
