No Sky

Lies, lies, lies again!, but this heart is not mine, nor is it the soul that has been bound to me. I never want4ed a partner and I never wanted to hold a hand and walk along the horizon, watching a dawn, in the end of the world, with no one else but my one true love.

“It seems impossible to believe that tomorrow, all of this will be gone, and there won’t be anything anymore. But at least… at least, we are together, we can enjoy our last moments in a hug.”

But of course, I would say, and then I can thank the gods that I am being given the opportunity to end not only my life, but everyone else’s, and I don’t have to think about this relationship anymore.

“Lovely, you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” I say, and of course, he believes me and kisses me and glides his hand around my back, and in a fierce look, seduces the part of me that was weak and afraid of trivialities. To be loved, it thought, there couldn’t be a greater desire, a greater fear in this world, a greater accomplishment to feeling fulfilled, but my mind can’t accept it and it never will.

But when the world is ending, when death surrounds you, when the sun sundowns for the last time, what will it matter, how I truly feel, what I truly want?

“I’m so happy that I met you, that we can enjoy these last moments together,” he says and holds my hand and leads me to the edge of a rock so that we can watch the end of time together. The clouds are dark and the sun very dim, the mountains and valleys beyond are bone yards, ugly, disgusting treasures. “Damn… I just feel like I’m repeating myself again and again. I keep saying how much I love you, how much I… but what else I can say? Everything’s been said.”

I feel like I want to tell him the thing that he doesn’t know: that I don’t love him, that I never loved him, and that I do not even know why I said yes when he asked me to be with him forever, that the way he caresses me doesn’t entice me, that the way he kisses me is boring, that no matter who he was, or how he looked like, or how he acted, I should have never said yes, and I should have said no and laugh at his temporary embarrassment.

“Let’s watch and do nothing else. Like this…,” I say and shrug and he nods, not very reassuringly.

“Together,” he says and I shrug again. He holds my hand and, for once, I hold back tighter than what he is holding me. What would it feel, I think, to make the lie go on and a little longer, some minutes, some hours, and then, in a last moment, a blow like the world has never known, to say the truth? With smugness, with rage, with satisfaction, with sadness, with the farcical face of indecision?

What can I do to make the end of times a little better for me?