Reflection at the End of the World
For some time now I’ve been walking around beneath a dark, gray cloud. I can’t seem to get a handle on it, a kind of low depressive feeling, malaise. I can’t shake it.
Do you feel any of that?
Maybe it’s because I find myself anticipating intense negativity at every turn — and it comes, it’s there. News is gloomy, even funereal. One bit of bleakness follows another without relent. Maybe it’s because truth has been compromised; it’s nowhere visible. Honor and trust can’t be found. Do you trust anyone? And maybe it’s because this really is the end of something, a world we knew, and we’re transitioning into an unknown. We fear that.
But I think it’s more than that.
At the end of the world, a world I can’t understand at all, I’m thinking that we’ve become too comfortable with death. We anticipate it, don’t we? We’ve learned to accept that there will be violence somewhere and people will die, innocent people, children. We’re comfortable with that, it seems. And it’s making me depressed.Keep reading
The Uncanny 