What do people want?

Survival or Sanity.

I’m writing a journal-style novel about a man who survives the end of the world—not by fighting through it, but by missing it. The TW-V, or Two Week Virus, wiped out nearly everyone. Now he’s left to figure out what comes next, alone.

The story focuses on more than just gathering supplies or staying warm. It’s about what happens when no one is watching. The toll of isolation. The weight of memory. The slow erosion of hope. I’m trying to balance the harsh logic of survival with the unraveling of a man who doesn’t know if he’s saving his life or just stretching it out.

So here’s my question:

As a reader, do you care more about how someone survives the end of the world, or what kind of person they become because of it?