A cathartic piece I wrote long ago. |
Somewhere, I know, I will be happy. Just not here, just not now. I know the truth, the end is coming, though people do not know it. In the end, what will happen? Where will people go? Will they spend their last moments in a chaotic surge of panic for their own self-preservation, or will they hold onto one another, desperate for some shred of last comfort? For now, they know nothing. They smile, they dream, they live. How do I walk amongst these happy people, knowing the end is so close that I can smell death in the air? Do I scream out and warn them, or do I wait for the end to come quietly, as to not cause panic. Yes, that is the appropriate thing to do. I must not cause panic. I see babies with their mothers, their bright eyes so full of wonder. They stare into my eyes, filling them with pain. How cruel, to know they will not grow old, they will not live. How sad, to think that friends will unknowingly miss their last chance to embrace, to bond. I must do what I can to say my tacit goodbyes, unspoken yet still subconsciously acknowledged. All these people I see, they have grown and lived for nothing. The world will perish, and their souls will die with it. What point is there, really? Why live in the first place? What kind of world would give us something precious, just to take it away from us? What kind of world hides behind a mask of pretty flowers and fluffy clouds, to conceal its true intent: Depression. Destruction. Death. What a horrib wonderful world… When the end comes, I will think of you. I can only pray to God that I will be with you when the time comes, so I can hold you as we both die, together. I will not cry, I will not shed a single tear, as long as you are with me until the end. I will not think of the finish. I will not think of death. Only of you. I cannot help but curiously wonder how precious life is, and how sorrowful the end can really be. Should I cry, or should I smile? Everything will be gone. Is this a tragedy, or a miracle? Perhaps God is rewarding us with death, with an answer, with an escape. If there is no more world, there is no more pain. Whether or not we shall move on is subjective. Maybe heaven will prove its existence and grant us entry, a world of love and peace. Or maybe we will be spat out from its glory, like the devil himself, and be cast out into isolation, into the welcoming arms of hell. I can only pray that there is no God to witness our sins. Humanity is lost, compassion is dead, and love is hurtful. We are not meant for this world. We are not worthy of life. Humanity has corrupted our own presence, the apple was placed in the tree for a reason. Eve did not create deception and disloyalty, she was merely the first victim of life. So please, do not cry. Do not weep. Though the end comes, do not despair. Death may not be as bad as you think. |