“We are a doomed generation,’’ he said. ‘‘We’re not making art about love anymore. It’s all about how doomed we are. We’ve always been doomed—animals when we lived in cages, the cold war, the ozone layer... The dangerous left has turned into the dangerous right. The sun will burn us alive and in ten years we’ll have drowned.”
“And here you are, calling us doomed because we’re only making art about being doomed.”
- Untitled, Unfinished Book about Love that is not about Love
I WAS seven when I found out that one day, in billions of years, the sun will die and so will we; it kept me up at night, the idea of an apocalypse. A world without light, without warmth and breath.
I compared the human race to the dinosaurs; if they had thoughts and a conscious they must’ve believed that life was infinite. I have always falsely imagined their demise as quick as flipping a board-game. One second they’re squinting at the horizon and the next their skin starts to burn, everything turning to black. That will happen to us, I thought.
WHEN MY worries about the sun started to fade, I watched Terminator and thought that soon, robots would take over the world. If it weren’t the robots it would be a comeback of dinosaurs (I also watched Jurassic Park at the age of 8…). I glanced at the TV when my dad watched The Walking Dead’s pilot episode and was too afraid to leave the house. There was always something that would cause the world to collapse, always something to keep me up at night.
IN THE medieval times, people paid churches to be relieved of their sins. The world would soon end because humans are sinners and God’s wrath will send the world underwater or up in flames—unless you pay the church, unless you obey a systematic power system that knows better than you, that wants to help save the world.
I wonder how many people thought that paying for your sins was foolish. Or maybe sometimes they woke up in a cold sweat and pounding headache, thinking about how once they died it’d be Satan waving by the door and not God. I wonder if the pang in their heart went away, if they looked at the sky and reminded themselves that paying for your sins is foolish, a tool to keep the people in line.
I have deluded myself into believing that everything happens for a reason. If earth wants to wipe us out it will, and we may well deserve it. We’ve prepared ourselves for death the second we first experienced it, when we came out of our mother’s wombs and entered a cold, bright room where we had to breathe for the first time.
YES, the world is doomed and one day everyone and everything we have ever cared about will be nothing but dust and bones. We know this, we have always known this. One day the sun will die, one day water will run out, and one day our hearts will stop beating. I’m tired of hearing what I know. I will try to step into the world with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back. I will try to paint the sky in a room without windows.
Yes, the world is doomed. Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me that the sky is purple and that every first Friday of the month it rains gold. Tell me that love conquers all, that God hides in holding someone’s hand.
They had another seven years to wait, and what terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! - Crime and Punishment
this is beautiful ♥️
🩵🩵🩵love this!!