But At least

So, what was never ending has ended. Who saw this coming?

You did, and I did. There were symptoms of heart attacks that were ignored for hiccups, more drama conspired than we could take, praised films that we didn’t really like, criticized at our best and applauded at our worst. I know you were up at night thinking about how to make use of this time in strength than in leisure, that is slipping away like a stream on lunar influence, because I was too. The slippage was real and we were fermented in ideas trying to collect best of our ability.

A friend of mine had a dream where the upheaval of the world was nigh. She had her dog by her side that seemed to be stiff following the nature of death in strange arrangements. A moment in time that is indescribable — Death, of a dear. However, the slippage brought back the hope of life and the dog stood on all fours fighting the monotony of the final act. “The world was ending but at least my dog was not dead.”, she said.

This, in itself, is an idea that is complete, whole. When we were at the funeral with humor and sorrow, we were still alive. When we were throwing away all those years, we were still growing. When we were rejected by the loved and loved by the unloved, we were still feeling. So, what happened to that imagery that we painted for ourselves, yours and mine? We got scared, I think.

The agenda of a stimulated thought that is dipped in desire to do something that is greater than or expected of us is not a momentary victory, it’s a forever milestone. We are rooted in pessimistic nuisance for our own goods than for others. What happened to you? What happened to me? Was I ever so busy in hating myself that I never paused and observed how you marveled at life that you hated yourself for the opposite? Or did you? Were our experiments never appreciated? Were the drafts that were better than the finals, discarded for the rest of eternity? Did the original idea, in order to accommodate criticism, die in vain? Sometimes, people laugh loud and long at your jokes of spontaneity than years worth of planned materials while other times, the plan excels. Apparently, the criticism over achievements is indeed distressing, but the tragedy is erasing them.

The world is ending, but at least my dog is not dead.