The cup

When I was young I wondered how it would be to live after people close to you die. Would it be so difficult that no matter who was there with you it would seem pointless. Would it be sad only for some days or months or years before you gradually and finally forgot the face that you had grown attached to? Would you then ask for more time to spend. Plead with a god you do not believe in to let him or her or it stay with you for some more time. Would you pray that it was you and.not them? And then be more confused thinking this was a selfish plea on your part. Because you didn’t want to be the one left behind? Because you were okay to be missed but not okay to miss. Because that was too terrible and difficult for you?

I used to think like that. I probably still do. Mostly I try not to. When I was very young I decided the best thing would be to die sitting in a giant cup like the ones they have in theme parks. Sitting with everyone you care about while the world ended. Then there would be no one to miss you nor anyone you would miss. No one would be left behind. And a new generation would be born somehow. Yes families won’t continue. But it would be the family together. Like they should be.


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