the perfect apocalypse

By Gabrielle Barnett

Gabrielle Barnett is an undergraduate Psychology and Art major studying to become an art therapist. She enjoys art in all mediums and especially sculpture of clay, cardboard, and soft materials. Her work focuses on differing perceptions of the world around her and communicates stories of passion and perspective. On campus, she is an editor for the Marlin Chronicle, co-Editor in Chief of the second edition of the Batten Honors College Academic journal, and involved with several other clubs. In her free time, she enjoys doing side-quests with her friends and creative writing.

the end of the world starts before lunch

i turn to my best friend and loudly complain

that it's too early in the morning

she rolls her eyes and says,

"you're always up at this time anyways"

and i laugh and complain that other people shouldn't be

the end of the world is not as dramatic as people say

there's no falling stars which is a shame

i've never seen a comet in real life

i always tended to be looking the other way

the end of the world sounds like every other day

people are talking news anchors are panicking

she asks me, "do we still have class?"

and i say, "you know they'll never cancel"

when we both laugh

that sounds normal too

the world ends slowly

drying like oil paint instead of acrylic

it's sticky like it too

my friend is watching the news and translating the lingo

until i shut off the tv and 

mention the half a pint of ice cream in my freezer

he tells me he'd rather have a beer

we fall into the same argument as ever

about what's childish and whether beer is good 

you couldn't even tell this might be the last time we ever talk

i tell another friend it's the end of the world

and she says, "no shit"

i chuckle and say,

"if it doesn't end, we'll have to do a presentation on it"

and she groans before laughing

the end of the world is quiet and then it's loud

louder than i'm comfortable with

the sirens are grating and unnecessary

i turn on my favorite song

louder than usual

i don't exactly need to preserve my hearing anymore

somehow we all end up sitting on a lawn

both the beer and my ice cream are long gone

classes are presumably cancelled because 

i'm not sure who's going to be around to teach or attend tomorrow

the sky is cluttered with planes but we can still see

just a little bit of blue

"what a day," i say and everyone sort of chuckles

i think about going home but know i'll never make it

the roads are all red on apple maps

everyone's trying to get somewhere

but us

we're just here

and maybe that's enough