When I close my eyes, that is where I am living. In the darkness and loneliness of my thoughts hides the real me I wish I was. The real life I wish I had. All the stories. The possibilities. The adventures. All the tales of the fantastical and the real I wish was really. I do not fear closing my eyes, for the emptiness is full of possibilities.

In the midst of our torment,

Of a plague and life stolen,

Of humanity forgotten and wasted,

Of kindness replaced,

We find hope in the future,

We must or we'd despair,

We'd crumble at the truth

That we're little and fragile

And that nothing is fair.

And we dream and we hope,

We make resolutions and oaths

We wish we'll keep some.

The future?

In our darkest we wonder

If there will be one.

But today, a fresh start.

Empty chapters filled with possibiliy

That we won't be apart.

That we won't fall apart.

"May you live in interesting times",

they cursed us.

We'll save each other from the tides,

we owe us.

In health it was easy. It was fun. She was kind, charming, loving even. She had an easy laugh and she joked around. When the mood lasted, it even made you forget how bad it could get the rest of the days. Sometimes things were so good he even believed the conversations they would have on a loop about how both of them were going to change things from now on. Start fresh. Sometimes weeks would go by without an argument.

And they would have these fleeting moments of peace and love and he would be reminded why he said yes god knows how many years ago.

But like the wind or the tides, she changed unannounced. And it was not her fault, he knew. She was sick, that monster in her brain had gotten the best of her. It made her cry on the floor in empty desperation. It made her sleep for days on end. It made her fight him, curse him, tell him she hated him. It made her want to do nothing, be nothing. It made her refuse and discredit the help she needed. It made her put on a happy face for everyone but him. It made his existence irriate her. It made them both so lonely and so hopeless.

In sickness it was unbearable. And he was not supposed to say it or complain about it because it wasn’t her fault, not truly. But it wasn’t his either. He wants to fix it, but he can’t. He’s supposed to help, but she won’t let him. He tries to be understanding, but the years chip at his patience. He fights back, knowing that he shouldn’t. He carries on, without knowing where it’ll lead.

Because when you’ve vowed to love someone, when you know that you have (though somedays, if only in thought, you guiltily doubt that you still do), you find it in you to bear the unbearabe. It isn’t healthy or right. It needs fixing, and knowing that is how he knows the monster hasn’t taken over him yet. Not entirely, anyway. But he pushes through because he promised he would. And he honestly doesn’t know what else there is to do.

And then, the good days come and in health her memory is wiped clean and her smiles finally enter their frontdoor. And they’re hopeful again that from now on... They’ll start fresh. It’s easy for a while. And then it isn’t again. And he wonders, on both good and bad days. And she wonders, when the monster decides to give her some peace of mind...

How much can our love take before the sickness breaks it?

I would sound like a tin foil hat crazy person. I would be mocked, put in some sort of facility. This, if they even listened to me at all! And who is they?? Where would I even go with any of this information? ‘Yes, this is Grace, 20-year-old college student, I would like to speak with the president. What president you say? Oh, really, any president. Just to let you know the world is going to end in 7 days. Actually, not quite right, humanity is going to end in 7 days. I have no intel on the actual world, but we haven’t exactly been treating it properly so maybe it’s quitting the game too. Oh, where did I get my information you ask? Just woke up with it! That’s right, some Virgin Mary being bestowed with the Jesus is coming over information situation. Yes, yes, 100% certainty. Not on the Jesus part though, I’ve never been religious, although I’m starting to feel like a Heaven would be nice. Alright, I will email you my information and you can sign me in to the psych ward. I’ll be waiting for the van! Thank you!’ Maybe I just drop someone an email... I know it sounds ridiculous. I have been through as many explanations as I can think of and all I’m left with is brain tumour, alien abduction or Inception style idea planting. All exceptionally reasonable of course. Maybe Leonardo DiCaprio did it... I can’t tell anyone. How could I ever? And should I? Would you like to know you are about to die? Everyone is about to die? Would that be something you can handle because my brief personal experience tells me you CAN NOT! These philosophical questions are hurting my brain... I should have paid more attention in philosophy class, now I don’t know how to act... What would one do if they had 7 days to live? What will I do? I guess I want to do things, say goodbyes. If this was some superhero movie, I would be on my way to avoid said calamity but that’s not happening either because I don’t know how we’re dying. We just are. There's no snapping out of this. I should have taken those moody quotes with a nature backdrop more seriously. ‘Do the things you want to do. Tell the people you love you love them.’ Should I just send one of those to everyone I know? It sounds like a quote some girl on Instagram would use to caption a picture of her bikini focused trip to the Maldives, but I guess people find some comfort in those too. They could be appreciated. Perhaps some people less cynical than me would even take the message to heart...

I know what I'll do. I'll hug my mom and my dad and my brother. I'll hug the dog. I will kiss someone, and I will drink and eat well, and I will listen to music, and I'll read a book, and I'll see a play and a movie and I'll hang out with my friends and hear all their stories and get in on their stupid ideas I usually worry will get us killed or arrested, because who cares anymore? I'll lose the cynicism. I'll do things, I'll tell people I love them. I'll appreciate humans and the million lovely things they do while I still can...

I’m not going to say anything, I can’t. I don’t know how to. I don't know anything...

Maybe it's not true. Maybe we'll all live and if we do, I need to see a doctor asap...

Maybe it's in my mind...

Maybe it's only me...

Maybe.