I’ve been giving this quite a bit of thought recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that everything really does eventually come to an end. And as a young person, as a teenager, I think I’ve been denying this truth for the past 15 1/2 years of my life. Because it’s frightening, really it is, that something that has become so regular and so normal that you don’t even give its existence a second thought can just cease.
And people say, optimists, mostly, that it’s alright because old things have to end in order for new things to begin, but what about a child with cancer? Or a widower who commits suicide? How can you say that these things just have to happen to make way for newer, better things? I don’t believe that for a second. But these things happen, anyways. And I guess the crushing, horrible question is simply, why?
It’s an awful feeling, to wake up and realize, there will never be another Artemis Fowl book. Or, I will never see that person again because they just moved halfway across the world (by the way, I am NOT talking about you, Allie, because I know I will see you again someday). Or, that person is dead; they will never interact with anyone, let alone me, ever again.
Why do things have to end, especially prematurely? Like, I understand that authors can only write about one topic for so long and that the elderly have immune system issues and become sick and die, but the disruptions to this ordinary timeline-why do they happen? Is it just because there needs to be a balance in the world? That endings are sewn into the very fabric of time just like beginnings?
The perfect example to sum this all up is: How come Steig Larsson had to die so suddenly in the middle of writing his Millennium series? And who really knows the answer to these kinds of questions? God? Does God sit there and pick and chose who has to die, what has to end? I certainly don’t think so. I don’t think any being is directly responsible; I suppose it’s just an as-yet incomprehensible part of how our universe works.