The Way the World Ends.

“This is the way the world ends,

This is the way the world ends,

This is the way the world ends,

Not with a bang but with a whimper.” -T.S Elliot

I’ve been thinking a lot about the end of the world recently, not the end of the universe, you know the huge bang where everything is swallowed into the sun, or we cause so much harm to the planet that it crumbles away to nothingness, but the end of the world that I know. I think everyone’s “world” ends at least once throughout their lives, no ones life is a single standalone novel like Jane Eyre or Emma. I think most peoples lives would barely fit into three novels, the amount of cliff hangers, plot twists, bumps and “ends” would be too immense to fit into one book.

Its seems sometimes that my life could be a collection of short stories, or tiny novels, all based off of one girl (Me, obliviously). Having the plot change every few months, or every story, if we continue with my analogy, can get rather tiring. Most collections of short stories don’t have a good ending until the very last book, where the sun sets over the beach and everything is alright, or the Harry Potter moment – “The scar had not pained Harry for 19 years. All was well.” So perhaps that stories that aren’t the true ending of something, is a sort of omen, that my last journey, my last adventure, my last novel of life, will be epic, epic and glowing and loud. But what will it look like to others? Will it be just as thrilling to witness, the loud glowing bang of my ending, or will it be a whimper.