The End of the World

When I think of the end of the world, I think of the silence.I think of the way the air would feel without the vibrations of fear and chaos and expectation choking it up. I think about the death of expectations and the death of aspirations and the silence of a world with nothing left to prove, nothing left to do. It is strangely comforting. For some reason, I see myself standing on a beach in the maritimes somewhere.It is fall and it is grey and I can hear the waves pounding the shore. I feel dead but in a good way. I feel empty, released from the humanness of my previous existence.I am not a husk, but some form that is not what it used to be. I am the observer and I am the observed, perfectly still and content.

I suppose this is what enlightenment feels like. I suppose this is what happily giving up the ego feels like. That place where there is no stress and no real emotion or anything to remind me of what I once was. I like this place. I just "am" there.I am good enough the way that I am. I don't need to eat or sleep or have an opinion. I am not doing anything or wanting to do anything because it is all over. There is nothing to do. It is quiet and peaceful. "I" am not there to fuck things up.In a place without feeling, it feels good.