The End

It's not that I haven't been writing, it's just that I forget to put my writing 'out there', well, I wrote this just now, so, enjoy...

The End

When do you first realise you're psychic?  I guess it's something I always knew, or, at least, suspected.  Something would happen that earlier I had anticipated, I'd jokingly say to myself, I must be psychic, but think no more of it.  But, as it happens, I am psychic.

As my awareness of my ability grew my ability improved, and now, here I am, able to see the end of all things I endeavour to do even before I have begun them.

When I meet somebody new I instantly know how our relationship will end, therefore, I wonder, why bother starting anything?

To begin with I was naive enough to imagine that, knowing the outcome, I could change the course of fate, but my prediction anticipates my reaction, and, therefore no matter what alternate course I try to enact it is, in fact, the course I already predicted.  It is impossible for me to achieve anything other than that I have already imagined.  It's like reading the last page of a book, no matter what those pages say inbetween that ending is set in stone, those inevitable words 'The end'.

So, what is the point in continuing along any course if the conclusion is clear before the journey has begun?  I think that I could just ignore the person, forget all about them, but I know that isn't possible, I have seen our future and it is what shall always come to pass.  There is no escaping it.

One can tempt fate, that's the only joy I can find in any of this, that if I meet someone and see the tearful conversation that will draw a curtain on our acquaintance, I see the room it takes place in, the kind of people present, I can then try to find myself in places that do not fit that description and see how fate will engineer it so that I inevitably end up in that place, the place I most avoided.  I could go to the very ends of the Earth if I wanted and still find myself somehow, inexplicably, located in whatever beige coffee shop my perception had pictured.

On the one hand it seems unreasonable, but it has only served to reinforce something we are all ignorantly aware of.  All things must end.  Everything is only temporary.  Each moment is temporary and memories will fade.  Knowing the future is no worse than living to see it.  I can blur out my forethought to some degree, caught up in the distraction of happiness, I, like you, can be joyfully ignorant of the temporariness of it all.  What flimsy lives.

It's a treat, in a morbid way, to see the shock and sadness cross the face of those faced with the inevitable conclusion.  'I'm sorry,' I say, repeating the lines like a bored actor, 'it had to be this way.' 'Why?' they sniff back, their performance seems genuine, they must have convinced themself of the permanence of things.  But the question always stumps me, why indeed?  Could I not defy fate and in that very moment snatch spontaneity back, change my course and create a new future?

I know I couldn't, fate would find a way to bring me back here, to this same conversation, and upon repetition I would be resigned to its force.  All things must end, it will say silently, resoundingly.

There are no new futures, no parallel realities, there is this and only this and the certainity of limitation, of one fate, one beyond our control, one that invariably leads us to these losses, these sad eyed conversations, these defiant hearts that believe in magic.  How wrong we are to hope for anything that lasts.

In some ways, knowing all this, I think I am freer than anyone else, having seen the path, the plan, I can enjoy the journey with a mind utterly unburdened with concern for the tiny, inconsequential details, safe in the knowledge that whatever is present is undaunted until the now becomes the then, we catch up to the future and it all must end.

My abilities continue to grow, it is like walking a step behind a spectre, merely echoing the actions.  There, duplicated in my vision, a never-ending series of replications, each a moment ahead, like holding a mirror to a mirror, and every action I will ever take is predicted before me.  I don't even have to think anymore, I just fill the spaces, and yet those around me laugh and smile and fall in love as if I were taking any effort to be this person, but I am not, I am just fulfilling my destiny, and I am all too aware about how meaningless it will all become.

No longer do I just see my future, I see the future of everyone, the certainty of every action, and life continuing out beyond my own, and the legacy of my life, its ultimate demise, the end of all things, the nothingness beyond, where all echoes end, the blank future, the time when there is nothing left to remember or forget, the greatness of it all, there is no memory, no destiny, no greater meaning, it makes me smile to know that everything we are doing is utterly without purpose, it makes me smile to know I am worthless.