Sitting on my suitcase by the side of the road. In front of what used to be the biggest and busiest airport on the continet. 900km from home. *Alone*. In stupefying awe.

Since the very beginning of the red alert, nobody wanted to believe the failure to contain the epidemic is imminent. How could it not be? The population density either too high or extremely low. Alienating work of money based economy. Industrial food. Air? Offices, planes, buses, gyms, classrooms, factories, labs, supermarkets...

In hindsight, what strikes me the most is the fact everybody could see it coming. But they went about their days, weeks and years changing nothing. I am no exception. I felt anxious, I felt as though I was slipping into insanity. But I never did anything. Didn't know what to do. Although I never knew of anything else, it hasn't seemed normal to me in a very long time.

Now that I think about it, I'm not quite sure when or where Project Afterlife originated. I was born into it. So were my parents. And theirs. Guess I should have payed more attention during history classes...

People around me are trying to overtake the few remaining functional airport shuttles. I am not. I still don't know what to do. I observe the panic around me. I see a man getting his leg continually hit by the closing shuttle door. He has to be aware that any bruises or open wounds increase the chance of infection. Maybe he just doesn't care.

I continue sitting on my suitcase. I still don't know what to do. I watch some people go down with the afternoon sun. I sense I am not an exception. I still don't know what to do. I am becoming increasingly calm.

When you lose a person

it can be good or bad,

whether it's a foe or a bro,

it will always make you sad.

You can lose a parent

or a friend,

you can love a life

which's come to an end.

You can lose a partner

or a boy,

you can part from someone

and lose all joy.

You can lose your house,

your phone, or your car,

you can lose a bet

or your dignity in a bar.

Your memory might fade,

you can lose your youthful looks,

you can lose the colour in your hair

or the knowledge gained from books.

You can lose ability to receive

or even to give,

you can lose all hope

and your will to live.

A loss is a blow.

Some make you wither,

some make you grow.

You can lose a thing or even two,

saddest of all is when you lose you.

We went out for a frolic in the sun

and at first we had so much fun,

but as the sun started setting

we started fretting.

Each in a corner of their own,

feeling mighty lone,

meeting from time to time

to enjoy each other's prime.

What we did not know,

as we were both supposed to grow,

growing doesn't mean parting,

quite the opposite - it's starting.

Starting to accept the good with the bad,

all the while sharing a single pad.

It's not always a deep cut in your flesh

or skin with a bad burn.

Rather it's the mind's relentless thresh,

not knowing where to turn.

It's your thoughts that need atoning,

not your deeds.

It's that self-deprecating groaning,

not the pleads.

Sitting in the grass, sun shining down on me. Soft breeze playing with my summer dress and messy hair on my head. Soft flutter of bird’s wings and distant sounds of the city. There is a moment of serenity. There is a moment of profound solitude, not even thoughts are present in my head. I am content.