Sunday, March 1, 2015

A Private Apocalypse

I'd like to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist like it does, if we hadn't met. 

The skies caving in...
Oceans draining into a sinkhole...
Birds forgetting their tunes...
People acquiring common sense!
Cooler summers in the city...
Decent coffee from the vending machine. 

Unprecedented changes on a global level that aliens would one day reminisce about over marshmallows in a celestial party by the beach somewhere on Venus. 

I'd like to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist if we hadn't met. 

I have to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist if we hadn't met. 

You don't understand why, because you see, if that were true, then it would mean that everyone else's world is falling apart too and I am not the only one holding pieces that don't make sense anymore. My sky would've been everyone's sky and my oceans wouldn't be the only ones draining into a sinkhole. It would've been easier to explain why the birds in my world don't seem to sing anymore, no more than I do. It would've been easier to bear, to empathize, because then, everyone else would be suffering too and I'd have hidden my anguish amidst the general chaos. 

But now, now I've got to find ingenious places to hide my pain. I tuck some in the memories of the laughter we shared. I push some behind the stories we told each other. I place only a tiny bit under the stolen glances; I don't wish to ruin their silent meanings. I throw a fistful in the air, at the moon that played mute audience to the script of our parting; The invisible weight only drifts gently back to me. I wipe some under my eyes to catch my tears; I leave a trail of dark circles behind. I sprinkle some in all the places we've been to; A little emotional garbage to lie with the polluting plastic. 

I arrive at the door you slammed. I see you've not acknowledged the care package I placed there. I don't knock. I merely pick up the last bit of pain I left there and place it in my heart. A lub is missed, a dub is forgotten, but the old machine picks its pace up again. 

I walk away; I still can't understand why we met. Why of all stories ours went the way it did. I'd like to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist like it does, if we hadn't met. I'd like to think that we broke our hearts to keep the earth on its curved feet. The unanswered questions between us hold the secrets of the ages. 

I'm going to continue to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist like it does, if we hadn't met. Because otherwise I'm going back to mine alone, and it lies shattered, and it doesn't make the least sense to me.


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