I’ve built an imaginary bomb shelter in my brain. Faded brick, twisted steel, a thousand feet underground. A place to hide in terror, cowering from the looming chaos which will overtake us all, like the sun swallowing up the earth and sky, or like the seas boiling while mountains turn to glass. However, its undeniable immateriality represents the fatal flaw in the bunker’s design. In reality, it’s a study in denial. Because, if I’m being truly honest with myself, it’s just practicing oblivion, imagining the end, while hope is strangled, buried in a shallow grave, and left for dead.
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