góða tungl

Dear Internet,

I can see how they do it, naturally, but with much better grace than I. Into the deep they go, followed by the shallow cut formed by their bodies as they slice through the water.

And that is where we end up, here you and I, circling around until the first one falls.

It’s strangling me, holding me down and keeping me hostage. I am gasping for air, the pulling of the under tow as I move faster against the current. “Come back!”, you yell.
But I cannot hear you.
Somewhere between the worlds I survive, neither alive nor dead, neither a ghost nor breathing. Neither heaven or hell, but who am I kidding? The population here is not 1, it is millions. We just pretend that everything is fine.

Lend all the tired ones your light,
tiptoe in every window,
But leave the suffering hearts in darkness.

On paper it looks good. Admirable. Some are envious of our success. But it is all hollow, isn’t it? It means nothing, it is nothing, it will be forgotten sooner than we think. Whatever legacy we had planned or hoped to plan will be for naught. We are but millionths of a second in a time that spans billion of years.
In the cosmic sense of it all, we are either parasites or carriers. Mainly we are destroyers.
I can see how easy it is for them to move across, make that final cut through the void. Choose life over death or death over life. They made a final decision, consequences be damned. They were in control, and for that we should be eternally grateful.

This day in Lisa-universe: 2012, 2011, 2009, 1999

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