I missed posting yesterday. I was too caught up in doom scrolling, procrastinating work, and fighting through depressoxiety (it’s my ship name for depression and anxiety). However, during my insomnia, I began thinking about the end of everything—as one does—and a few pocket stories came tumbling out. Enjoy!
As all light is extinguished from the Universe, I find myself longing to listen to songs I first heard on the radio in my youth.
What you don’t know is that you’ve lived this same life a million times before. Like a toddler with a top, God winds up the Universe and watches it unravel only to wind it right back up again.
We tend to think the end of things should be fiery and cataclysmic. If everything is going to end, we want a fucking pyrotechnics show. Not me. I do expect there to be a few billion supernovae before the Universe dies. But when the end of everything comes, I hope it’s like the janitor turning off the lights on her way out of the building at one in the morning.
I think the Universe already ended several millennia ago. We are just an echo reverberating across what’s left of space-time. We’re like dancers at the ball, having the time of our lives—oblivious that we are specters, separated from our once corporeal existence for eternity.
I will never be the first to do anything. All the great deeds have already been done once, and all the petty acts as well. But I could be one of the last at something—and that keeps me going. I would be okay being the last person in the Universe, for example. No expectations, no demands, and nobody to let down. I think I have the perfect personality for that. But, with my luck, I would be the penultimate person, and my death would disappoint the sole survivor, leaving them to grieve alone.
Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear from you what you think the end of everything will be like. There’s something comforting about pondering the death of the Universe. Maybe, it’s that nothing we can do can affect it one way or the other because the Universe is so massive and complex. Maybe, I’m just weird.
Be the poetry you want to see in the world,
Jason