It was just then, at the end of everything
“It was just then, at the end of everything” — she knew things would have to change, but how? Did she change in hopes of shaping the environment around herself? Would she wait for the seemingly uncontrollable to somehow move?
Just then, at the end of everything, she gave up — on knowing what she was supposed to do — as if there was some plan before her — on knowing what was real, what was objectively happening. She is living in the in-between —
What do I do when I’m exhausted and confused?
You embrace it.
Yeah, this is where you are now. In the absence of resources or long range plans, when you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.
This is everything. Just then and now — living in the in-between, the distant present. When sleep is elusive and burnout seems imminent. At this end — you leap — tessering to a place unknown — you can see it sometimes — an imagined this will be; but the getting there can be excruciating, bewildering.
In the “I don’t knows,” what if you just decided you’d be okay — amongst this — in the absence, you decided to tesser — not knowing; not seeing — in an unfamiliar end you lack the words to describe. What then?
It’s in this space we live — in the constant movement, the not enough time and too much to experience, in the self-doubt and fear if we stopped moving the everything would collapse into nothing. In the wondering why we’re still, in the lies to ourselves — told to comfort — that slowly become our truths — we catch ourselves mid-thought, wondering if that’s what we really meant.
We have conversations with the familiar people in absent settings — pondering “the end of everything.” How it would come — what lives there; how could we live there — imagining it’s too close.
It was just then she paused and then continued on living in this unknown in-between — and that was enough for now — even as the end loomed; she noticed it and went on with her day…