Displaced

It’s difficult not to feel displaced in an apocalypse. Somehow, for some of us, things are the same, but for the rest of us, things have shifted immensely. The worst thing is that I don’t know which group I should adhere to, and somehow this brings a grave calm to my falling in love with me.

It’s not a restart, not a continuity. For me it feels like a pause from all the urgency of life. I’ve put the world on hold, and I’m rummaging through old memory boxes, and reliving things I didn’t have time to enjoy or grief at that moment, and I’m taking my time to think of them, feel them, heal them.

At last, the world isn’t loud anymore. At last, things are not life or death anymore. At last, I’m here.

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