The End is Nigh

You know that scene in the disaster movie when everyone is walking down the street and minding their own business - walking the dog, checking their watch, sipping a latte, etc. - and they all suddenly look up at the sky in abject terror as the MENACE slowly advances? The ominous shadow that creeps across the face of the city and up the side of buildings and over parks as the sun is slowly blocked out completely and you know, deep down inside, that this is the end (this is right before the witty hero, who despite the seemingly impossible odds, has [learned to pilot the alien craft/master nuclear physics/decipher the hieroglyphics] and [appears as a single bright point against the incredible darkness/bursts from the top secret underground government research lab/practically falls from the sky right near the desolate ruins] and saves all of humanity by [destroying the mother ship at the single, but incredibly poorly designed, weak point/restarting the earth's rotation by, obviously, detonating a massive nuclear charge in the very core of mother earth (was it good for you?)/unlocking the elements with the LAST MATCH IN THE UNIVERSE]. Oh - and he gets the girl.).

Right. So there's this shadow creeping and it soooo slow that you can't actually see it move until you sigh and toss your head and look away and furtively glance back in frustration and - LOOK! THERE! - the lightpost and then the tree and then - you're sure - the edge of the field all disappear in blackness. It's been five years of this game and now, when it seemed most unlikely to end, you realize that the end is, indeed, nigh.

THE TALK is coming. The 'profess your undying love' moment that can break your world into pieces and leave you gasping for breath and watching to see if your humpty dumpty life gets reassembled to match your most treasured and secret dreams or your worst wake up screaming and sweating nightmares. THE TALK almost happened tonight but, god, we were so tired and we're so helpless in the face of the enormity of what needs to be said that it's easier to trudge along in silence and enjoy the taste of the sparks leaping between our accidental hand brushings and shoulder rubs (still! five years later).

The walk home from the walking home left some time to ponder things. This track is becoming so well worn that you can wander in it for days without risk of anyone spotting your head above the walls. I think I'm just tired of the endless circles and, even though there's really nothing to prevent this from getting deeper and deeper forever and ever, I think it's time to stop. Time to, as they say, fish or cut bait. I hate ultimatums but this may be one of the few times when one is needed: either we fly the alien ship/learn physics/decipher the symbols, or we just accept that some things are better left unknown.