Frenzy

There is always a notion that the end is near. A belief that today will be our last. We hold on to this, almost, as if it were a fantasy. That tomorrow, it will all be over. That there will be nothing left when we wake up. The idea entices us. We are bred to know the end is near. That our lives, are more about redemption than anything else. Above all, we live in sin. We must redeem. We must cleanse our lives of desire. Of want. We must see ourselves, not as we are, but as some god wants us to be. Somewhere far off, in a paradise of heaven and eternity. We are taught to hold ourselves against the highest standards. Always fearing. Always doubting, that it is okay, just to be, who we were meant to be.

The end becomes an escape. A way out. Of the guilt. The chains of doubt, that are tethered to our hearts. The weights of the world, the perils that unfold, just when we open our eyes. The end is near. Closer to me. Closer to all of us. Inside. It is so close. Our mortality speaks to each of us. It speaks to me. As if it sees me, in the mirror here, before me. In my eyes, the reflection. The years gone by. Inside the image staring back at me. It is the end. It is my mortality. I must wake from this dream. Flee this fantasy. For I am afraid. Afraid of what will come. What the end will bring. When my eyes cannot see the light. Cannot see the sun, shinning in the sky. In the darkness that envelopes, in the moments I must let go. I am afraid. More afraid than when I was alive.

And so it goes. The virus spreads. Or so they say. And day after day,the news latches on to it. Reporters flying everywhere. Fear. Panic ensue. The idea becomes more tangible. Much more than a fantasy. We start to wonder, start to repent. To struggle with our fantasies. Our wishes. Our beliefs. What have we done? What can we do now? To save ourselves? How can, I save, myself.