a world once so big

Friday, April 18th, 2053.

All my life I wanted to die.
Or maybe I didn't. Maybe what I really wanted was for the world to end. For all the pieces of this intricate world to come together and slowly fall apart. I thought that if I tore apart the world, piece by piece, I'd finally understand it. I'd hold its parts in the palm of my hand and watch them crumble. I'd be alone.

The world isn't what it was before. While gazing at the crumbs of earth in my hand I've found that I, too, am a part of it.

Last Friday, I woke up behind an abandoned law firm, drunk and dazed. Last Friday, my wife and I divorced. Last Friday, I saw years of spended love and time go to waste. I lost my kids, my wife, my home. My life.

Around me I saw a couple of crumpled dollar bills, probably from pitying pedestrians. They must've thought they could save me entirely by tossing ripped up change in my face as I slept. Reluctantly, I got up. That was probably the worst hangover I had in my life. Luckily, my fingers were still working so I was able to call my friend, Antonio. He didn't answer. He didn't usually. Instead of lying aimlessly on the road, I decided to get up. It was an old street and no one came here often, so I didn't think anything of the lack of cars.

I kept walking until I reached a fast food plaza. There were cars, but there weren't people. Not even employees.

Confusion prickled along my spine. Out of nowhere, I had this strange urge to call my wife, to ask how the kids were. I knew it was a bad idea, but the tears welling in my eyes went to my brain and I called. I called.

She didn't answer.

I was hoping she wouldn't, but somehow I was upset. I didn't know what to do, so I screamed. Someone had to hear me. They had to. They couldn't just ignore me.

At some point, I began thinking that this part of the city evacuated, so I checked my phone for news.

Nothing new. They couldn't evacuate so many people without some type of warning, I thought. I stole a car and began driving. There wasn't a single living thing where I drove, except for small trees along the sidewalks. I drove around the city aimlessly, like instead of finding people, I was trying to find composure. When I dialed 9-1-1, my phone was out of service. I guess even internet companies eventually stop working when there's no one to run them.

I'm Adam Rosebum, and today is Sunday, April 20, 2053. It's been two days since the world became the way it is. As I write this in an old ripped up sketchbook, I remember everything about my life. I remember working to eat, and eating to live, and living for my family. But they're gone now. Everyone's gone. I look outside of the window of the trailer I've stolen, and I see black and white buildings. The world is losing color now, and objects are losing shape. It's like the world is peeling back to its original blueprint, and becoming nothing again.

I'm Andrew Rosebum, and I'm on a journey. To find people.

I've noticed that the farther I drive, the color and life of the world behind me turns into white blocks of 3D design, void of any details and color. But the view of the world ahead is always what it's been; living. When I stop for gas and food, I can see the nothingness creeping farther and farther along my feet.

I think this is what they call an apocalypse.

I think that the world is ending, and I'm the only one who gets to see it. I think I'll die alone and watch as the world dies with me.