The Big Goodbye
It always feels like the end, and that's the tricky fucking thing about the now. The now is the end of the past. What's next isn't real, what's past isn't real. Real is now and now is the end. So maybe this is the end of the world. But of course, no. The world continues. There is no end. If humans were wiped away, the world would continue. When it becomes enveloped in the embrace of our dying sun some few billion years from now, it will have ended. Even then the amazing universe still goes on. To no end. And here I am at a desk. Reading what you've said, and I'm supposed to believe that the stars are making this happen? Probably not. But where is the interface between the universe and the leptons? I still bring up faint recollections of you every day. It's like it won't go away. It won't end. But it feels like it needs to. It feels like you and I have ended. Like you are afraid of me. It has always felt like the end and maybe that's the problem, maybe that's the reason it feels so good. I'm sure we've talked about this years ago. And I thought it was the end then, too. I hope I don't count the days you're gone.