A Reason to Exist

The apocalypse is coming – yes, that's certain and, because of that certainty, reassuring. Because if it were not? If it were not to come? Upon what could we blame our vague sense of dread? Upon what our sense of purposelessness? Upon what this frittering away of our lives? Upon what our endless chatter? 

We need an excuse; we have one. We need a correlate; we have that too, and it's coming closer by the day. 

Relief. Relief mixed in with disgust, with horror. Relief that that disgust, that horror has a reason to exist. And our impotence in the face of the disaster? The fact that we can do nothing? Relief that our idiocy too has a reason to exist.