The Last

by Hanna Jameson

‘A lot of people confuse movement with progress,’ Dylan

We lived day to day and could no longer remember all the people we hated, the things that upset us, made us angry online, Facebook statuses that made us roll our eyes, cute animal videos that made us cry, vendettas against journalists, news anchors, politicians, celebrities, relatives … all gone. A girl was murdered, but it had happened before. Before didn’t exist anymore. The giant slate of the world was clean. Consequences no longer existed.

This isn’t a philosophy text. It’s not my place to decide either way. But it was easier to argue these points before, when most abstract ideas about life and death hadn’t affected me.