At The End Of The World -2021- | Love

We loved like there was no tomorrow — because some days, there almost wasn’t.

And maybe that’s enough.

But it holds on.

Love at the end of the world isn’t perfect. It’s messy, tired, anxious, beautiful. It forgets to do the dishes. It cries in the bathroom. It makes dark jokes and holds on too tight. love at the end of the world -2021-

— for everyone who loved through the static

[imagined: December 31, 2021]

Here’s a draft for a blog post titled — written in a reflective, poetic, slightly melancholic style, as if looking back from a near future. Title: love at the end of the world -2021- We loved like there was no tomorrow —

He said, “If this is the end, I’m glad it’s with you.”

I remember sitting on a fire escape in April, sharing one pair of gloves with someone I’d only known for three weeks. The city was quiet. No planes. No traffic. Just the sound of us breathing, and the distant hum of a world holding its breath.

That was the thing about 2021. We stopped saving love for later. Later felt like a lie. So we loved in grocery store parking lots, through masks and bad Wi-Fi, in arguments about vaccine appointments and who left the window open. Love at the end of the world isn’t perfect

In between lockdowns and second-guessing every cough, something strange happened. We learned to love differently. Not the grand, cinematic kind — no airport dashes or rain-soaked confessions. But love in the margins. Love as survival.

And yet.

love, apocalypse, memory, hope We didn’t know it then, but 2021 was a year of small endings. Not the dramatic, fire-and-brimstone kind — more like the slow fade of a song you didn’t realize was playing.

I laughed because I thought he was joking. He wasn’t.

And maybe that’s what I’ll remember most. Not the fear. Not the news tickers or the graphs climbing toward tragedy. But the way we held each other at the edge of uncertainty, and decided it was still worth it.