Weeks or months have passed.
I no longer trouble myself with keeping track of time that has already been actualized.
Fear is pulsating throughout the globe, our globe.
They have declared we only have a short time left.
I can’t help but feel this “short time” is an eternity.
There are many who have given into the fear, surrendering to the inevitability of it all.
Others, like myself, are more or less at peace, at least with the fact that there is no point in giving up on our routine lives. So we are going to perish, I still need money for food until then, so I continue to work.
I do not fear that which I can not control, that which I can not prevent.
Death may come tomorrow as was always the case.
The only thing that has changed is that now I know when I will no longer be able to live.
It is nothing special though, because everyone knows the furthest date to which I, or anyone, can aspire to continue breathing.
This date is a deadline, “The deadline” by which we must attain all our goals.
There will be no extensions, no exceptions.
I work better with deadlines, so in a sick way I like this deadline which is not self imposed.
Before this tragic series of events, many books had been written hypothesizing the effects of an end date for our reality.
It has always been fascinating to look at how we as a species react to the full awareness of mortality. There are those who say “fuck it all” I’m going to party and have “fun” from now until the end. Vegas has been inundated with masses of humanity trying to succor themselves with the joys and thrills and bliss of gambling, drinking, drugs and sex.
I blame them not for these actions; I only wonder what was keeping them from it before now.
Many have turned to “God” stuck in denial and pleading with this unseen being to save them, or at least provide safe passage from our current reality into the one they believe awaits. There are those of us, who have come to terms with the “nothingness” that awaits. We have no need to change our ways as we have been awaiting this in our own ways for months and years prior to the awareness of a specific end date.
Here I am typing, knowing that my thoughts put down into words, stored in this digital format will soon cease to be. I am no longer typing with the hope that others will read and find comfort in the knowledge that someone else is as fucked up as they. I type because I have to. The thoughts I produce, the ideas that emanate from my being must be let out. The simple act of typing brings them into being in this universe. While no physical trace will remain of me except the atoms and sub atomic matter and energy that I will become, these ideas and thoughts that I type will forever exist within the timeless reality and plane of existence that is all time and all things. I am living for the past, as no future exists.
I am a member of a tangential reality that must come to an end.
All I have left is to enjoy what remains, to be who I am.