do you ever think about how past generations made post-apocalyptic media as a nightmare, as a warning, as a horror story, because they were so scared of their world falling apart, because the thought of their world in ruins terrified them, because things were so good all they could fear was what if it stopped–
but the world has been burning around us for so long that now when we look at those fictional ruins we feel a terrible longing. it's like a promise, a wrapped present we keep picking up and shaking, listening, wondering when we'll get it. it's like boxing, watching a guy get punched in the face over and over, until you just start praying he'll fall down already. you look at a picture of a skyscraper blown apart and you see the trees growing out of the cracked windows and you know that tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow you have to go to work again and you wonder when you will finally get to lie down.
how many more years are there between my hands on this keyboard, and grass growing quietly up through all our old bones?