Apocalypse

For months I sat around my parents house, newly sober, with anxiety I could feel in my gut, having visions, visions of the vaporwave post-apocalypse we have begun. That’s right, Jackson — the apocalypse already happened. The rapture took only folks from far away lands you’ve never heard of, folks who believe in all kinds of strange gods or no gods at all because, let’s stop shitting ourselves, we always knew deep down it was the intention behind actions that mattered, nothing else (God himself can become the target of idolatry, if one worships with Hate in one’s heart). The apocalypse was one of the soul; it took the shape of a subtle lapse into oblivion, spiritual nihilism, the cold isolating death of warm childhood nostalgia.