I saw this mural today. I was all over the city, just diving and looking at stuff, and this big painting on the side of a building. It was all the way below the water line. A little bit worn away, but it was still in pretty good shape, considering.
What was it?
It was like this painting of a mother, I guess it was a mother holding her baby.
.
.
Never cried underwater before.
Babe!
Are you okay?
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ha.
.
I don't know if this is gonna come out right.
I mean, we got here? You know? We got here. We grew up thinking, one day it'd be our time to go. And it just never was, it never was.
Going under that water is like going back through time. Everything is like it was. All the buildings were built, all the cars were neatly parked, all the garbage cans were bolted to the sidewalk, by people who were afraid to die. It was the meticulous craftsmanship of terrified people.
We didn't know we'd have each other for good. Back then there was real fear. Real worry. The world was all fucked up. I remember feeling so alone. Like I was the only one fighting it.
We were all in it together, though. Every stranger you ever met, they were fighting the very same fight you were. Of course, you didn't talk about it with them, but all of us saw that terror, the terror any mortal person has. That terror wasn't natural. No other creature in the universe woke up every morning knowing it was guaranteed to die one day. Just us. Nobody should have to live with that. It's too much, it isn't right. No one ever should have had to bear it.
But we did. We all stared it down and kept on going. And we did it together, we were all in it together. It felt lonely, but we were never alone.
We all had each other, no matter how often we forgot it. All of us, we always had each other.
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