The Journey Home

Everything in the world has changed, and I still don’t know what to do. A week later, its still very abstract, and even though I know the meaning will eventually creep back into the days, pulling together a semblance of rationality puts a strain on all of our realities. For those that are left, the tears have dried up, but the emotion still flows from our eyes and down our faces perpetually. This might be the way it is for us, the survivors, until we leave this Earth.

I’ve been reflecting whether or not I should write anymore, and I came up with a weak reasoning that has let me pass. Looking at my strange reflection in the mirror, I realized there weren’t many people like me left. Before I thought no one looked like me, and now I see someone who used to look like everyone. And so I whispered to myself and anyone; “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.” If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.

If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.

I found out about the end of my world over the ships loudspeaker. First they announced the general alarm, and then the captain said that the United States had been destroyed. It was just a matter of fact. After a bit, my body emptied of everything I had ever known. My spirit left with my bones and muscle. My hopes and desires were swiped from my mind instantaneously. My emotion, soul, and entire understanding of the universe left through my feet. The sounds of understanding cruelty sprang out around the ship, and I knew, strangely and immediately, that this is no dream. This is really happening.

America, my home, my entire world, is gone now forever. The atomic bomb, the world’s greatest fear and weapon, has taken everything I have ever known. And by whom God only knows, and by whom shall fear the judgment of God forever. My family, friends, and the in-between have become null and void all at once.

Yet I can’t comprehend how it is to be that here I am still, floating on this shapeless ocean, to continue with what began as my simple soul search. Looking back now it feels selfish and arrogant to think I could say goodbye so easily to a whole world I knew so well. Now everything has changed, everything permanently altered. At the start of all of this, before the disaster, I told myself change would come, knew it to be true even, and yet I could never have realized truth as it is. How naive I am. Here, searching still, I know that the soul is everything but simple, and I don’t dare end what I started searching for until I know the true meaning of the word; end, which, by the grace of a higher power, I do not know, unlike so many others. I knew them all too…

I don’t think there’s anyone left to read this, a fact that still rips through me every second of every new day, and like the waves I float on, I can feel the pulse push through me. A physical force of emotion so strong, I fear it will never end. Always, I hear the cries, gasps and sighs of people, Americans, who I cannot call anything but my Brothers. One day, maybe, someone will happen upon this story, but now I don’t know. I hope so, and hope not as well, but I understand that I can’t rely on hope any longer, and not for one second. I have faith that if there is someone left, I Will find them, or they will find me.

The world outside, the sea, is still bright, and eerie. Still, just as beautiful as before, as though nothing happened at all. I look out to the sea and know that somewhere beyond, everything I know has been vanished forever, and yet here I am, still looking out from the end of the Earth.

At first, I wanted to say that it was impossible to describe how I felt, that words would not do justice to the feeling, but I realize that this would be a cheat. The words are there, and always will be. They are words I knew once as something else, that I never truly understood until this moment. They are the words called longing, darkness, sorrow, and hope. And forever they will mean something new, different, and powerful.

I’ve been reading a book since and before the disaster. At first I thought it was nothing important, a children’s book, but now it gives my life a new meaning. There is a line that I thought I should put to what’s left of the world. It goes like this; ““Don’t worry,” said Maddy. “People didn’t make life, so they can’t destroy it. Even if we were to wipe out every bit of life in the world, we can’t touch the place life comes from. Whatever made plants and animals and people spring up in the first place will always be there, and life will spring up again.””

I love you.