Last week was a bit hectic. I crashed Jox’s company Christmas party, and I also had an interview with Bloomberg Philippines on Freelancer.com‘s recent Fast 50 report. Aside from all of these events, we (that’s me with fellow The Red Whistle volunteers Ron and Mark) had to finish The Red Whistle’s art and literary folio, which we also launched at Today x Future Saturday last week–just in time for World AIDS Month. (You can download our labor of love, Red Letter Days, by clicking here.)
It’s almost Christmas, and I’m on a break, so I hope to get to my writing while I have some time in my hands. I hate being idle, and while some people close to metell me I need to take a break, I like trying to be as productive as possible. I discussed with a friend about the possibility of finally doing that Vipassana meditation retreat, although the next schedule won’t be until early next year, by which I assume work will start picking up again. (Don’t we all wish we all had the luxury to take breaks whenever we need to?)
Anyway, here’s the fifth story for TWO50TWO:
the existence of all things, headed into inevitable entropy.
Let us for the purpose of this conversation assume that I once was that lonely dot, that infinitesimal speck.
Let us, for the purpose of discussion, assume that everything that is now between us occurred after the Big Bang (i.e., January 1, 2014 at your balcony, 12:01 am.)
Let us, for the purpose of deliberation, assume that we will continue this for X amount of time
(perhaps until after you leave me for Madrid to continue your studies, when you get that scholarship you’ve been waiting for, despite me begging you not to leave, except two weeks after you are in the airport and we say our goodbyes, succumbing to the silence from which we never recover;
or when I cheat on you–unexpectedly, I will confess over breakfast, you will cry as you throw your clothes in a garbage bag and leave our apartment…)
until a dissolution comes.
When I stare at you and you smile back and I see each and every moment that is about to occur, the fear that the universe will begin to collapse comes like a tide that makes me want to hold you tightly.
We cannot be infinite, but I tell you I wish this was forever.
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