Watched a beetle die slowly over several hours last night. They’re out too early this year. Spring came too early this year, as it so often does, now. It wandered around frantically for the first hour, looking for… whatever. Then settled into a quiet, listless malaise. Then huddled itself against a wall on the cold concrete. That’s where we all end up, in the end. All activity and energy for nothing, alone, gasping for something we’ll never find. And then the dark. The universe your gods made.
by achrilock