Future bound

They say our world is doomed. Mayans chose 2012, yet here were all in the year 2029. Yes. You read that correctly. Twenty-Twenty-Nine. I had a vision ten years ago, a bleak future flashing before my eyes, telling me to find meaning elsewhere. I heeded this sudden advice, appearing like a distant and unexpected family member there to torture me.

Yesterday, news arrived through an ancient radio transmitter at my bedside: massive earthquake, many dead, flooding to follow, slowly sinking. Speaking so casually as if it were not a city lost, but a broken swing set at the local playground. How many disasters had I seen in my lifetime and narrowly escaped? Our existence on this planet is out of my hands, out of yours. Or perhaps this is just something we tell ourselves in order to remain immobile, petrified by the thought of a future we are slowly nailing to the ground.

They say what is yet to come cannot be known, I think we know exactly where we’re headed.