Closed

I have always had problems with endings. An ending is a full stop. Its not like a death. An ending, a real one, is nothing. Its Never More. There's a huge empty space at the bottom of the page. Space with zero stars. Not even the comfort of monsters and darkness and silence. The space of nothing. I have a problem with nothing. There is nothing and no observer, no subject, no object to recognize it, name it, knowledge it. Its not metaphorical or concrete. Tangible or intangible. Its nothing. 

Closed is a better word. Inside a closed building there is still stuff going on. But its not for public view. The lights are on but no one will answer the door.

The reason for this is 

I cannot bring myself to care. My humanity is being crushed from me. My hope siphoned from my light. My creativity doesnt exist. Im trying to care, but I dont have the energy for it.

None of that crap ever really benefitted me personally. Make no mistake it was awesome. I shared some very special moments with super people. Many will never know or believe that such a thing can happen.

But after all that, I return to my reality...and dont hate anymore. Don't cry. Don't care. Im closed.

I dont know how long this transition will take. I think my inner spirit is making small attempts at resurrection. But it won't work anymore. So, I may pop a few more times in and out of here, making up little things to write. Ultimately, I will close down more and more until one day, it stops. No announcement. No words. Just blank.

Let it crush me. Let it be numb. Let it go.

I'll finish up Wano and wrap up a few other things. Tye off loose ends. Then close.

Stop. End.