Everyone here is in shock. The few that are left, are
grieving. Others, solemn. It seems, that
instead of thinking, why them,
everyone is thinking, why me? No one
wants to be left on this planet. No one except… me.
They
do not seem to understand that, here, every time they look into the distance
with mourning, was every time I was looking into the distance with hope, there.
The past, is past. They do not seem to understand that, we do not know each
other. We can be anyone and everyone we want to be. They do not seem to
understand that this is a new page. A new beginning for humanity. They do not
seem to understand that this… is… it. Or, maybe, they do understand. Maybe,
they just can’t face reality. Maybe, they can’t face the future. Maybe, they
can’t face themselves. Or, maybe, they just do not seem.
Seeming… it is a funny thing. It is a funny thing that toys
with my mind—plays with my heart. If everything seemed… well, nothing would be quite what it would be, now would
it? Nothing would be quite what it would be. If only everything seemed.
The
clock on the floor would not seem to
be ticking.
The regrets of my
life would not seem to be hurting.
The breath of my soul would not seem to be succumbing to the darkness.
