End of the world? My last thoughts.
Aryan Mukherjee
Life as is known through the spectrum of this nanoscopic planet Earth can be whittled down through the pen and paper of a simple fairy tale pertaining to children's literature, except in reverse. What seems unfathomably large through the lens of us mere humans is but a microcosm of what the universe truly holds, and thus, through the nothingness it always once was, we begin at The End. Slowly, gradually, prophetically, the rollercoaster of life, of plot, of elements creaks its way up the rusty iron filings to its peak, as the world grows emphatically into its highest point yet, with humanity thriving ever more. And yet, as this world has left me to assimilate one thing, all ebullience, triumph, glory, and delusory surges of dopamine all at once must cease. So on the railroad track back home through the books of a narrated fairy tale, there is all but one element left in the story of how we, as people, cease to prevail. The Beginning. The end of our world as we perceive its soft, soluble core drift through our fingers is but a new start, one for the remnants of our society to print its feeble touch against everything the universe holds after. And with that, I leave the world with one final message- Welcome. Welcome, everything that is yet to prevail, and thank you, for prolonging all that we have amassed thus far. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart to the infinite entitlement present in our world. Thank you.
My message to the world is a paradox of common ideologies. With this, I answered how I did, not due to the mind-blocked systemology of how I live my life, but rather the fundamental understanding I have of how the world truly works. If I were to share these thoughts with anyone, I would only want my parents to view my message, to be the only ones who were truly ‘there with me until the end’. Upon my message of orienting myself to the more destructive and candid facets of the world, the person’s whose message, from the article, that resonates with me the most would be that of Jane Goodal, seeing the world for what it is, and accepting it. Of everyone’s messages, there were no surprises. Everyone has their own views on life. That is natural, that is expected, and that cannot be inquired on. To whom I would inquire this myself? Also, nobody. The end of the world is no easy feat to comprehend, and to propel someone into a circumstance where they would decide how they would leave their mark, would be too burdensome of a task for me to entail.
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