The end.
Who knew?
I did.
So did you.
But it was more convenient to avoid
what we knew to be true.
A big bright flash.
That's what we thought
it would be.
Wrong.
It was just something.
And then nothing.
Is it disappointing?
I hope so.
The end is almost never fulfilling.
We want it to be.
But wanting is futile
when the end runs the game.
It is your own fault.
For lying to yourself.
Tucking the truth away
into a dusty drawer
right behind your hippocampus.
It is here now.
As if it was not before.
You have no time.
To speak your nothings
before it comes.
And when it does.
Just know that I….