Why doesn't the fact that we are all running out of time bring us closer together? Shouldn't the realization that we'll all soon be dead marginalize our differences? Shouldn't it align our priorities? You'd think it would unify us against a common enemy, right? Instead it seems to have the opposite effect. I guess the fear gets the best of us. We distract ourselves with bullshit trivialities and build sand castles of self importance. We fight and yell and tear each other apart. Our brief time here - our only time here - is made miserable and brutish by our ignorance. We are a truly idiotic species.
I just got off the phone with my dad. We hadn't talked in a few days. I'm one of those strange people who tries to call at least one of his parents daily. I think The Profuser accidentally inspired this tendency by sending me a link to a disturbing little website nearly a year ago. It asked for three pieces of information: my age, the age of my parents, and how many times I see them each year. Then, once the data was entered, it ran a macabre algorithm and performed a calculation. It told me how many more times I'd see my parents before they die. Immediately it filled me with heavy horror. I felt a feeling somewhere between nausea and dread. There was a claustrophobic sensation of time's walls closing in on me.
The day waits for me when one of them will be gone. And after that, another day, for the other. It troubles me in a way words cannot describe. Consider for a moment what awful days await us. Bullets fired from the future, waiting for us to rush forward and meet them.
But this too is just another reason to be happy, actually. Because that moment is not now; what's to come hasn't yet come.
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