You know, when I first saw the fires, I should have been concerned.

And if not by the fires, then the emergency alarms going off definitely should have worried me.

And, even still, if I wasn’t scared at that point, it should have been when the National Weather Service said that we were in the prime area for where two separate natural disasters were set to hit, and on the same day no less. 

But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t concerned and I wasn’t worried and I especially wasn’t scared.

A lot of people said that there was something wrong with me, and maybe there was. 

I mean, my parents were terrified. The night the news broke, I heard my mom crying in her bedroom, crying those shoulder-shaking sobs. I wanted to go to her, but I didn’t know what to say to make everything seem like it would be okay, I didn’t think that everything would be okay anyway. I also didn’t think she would have wanted me to know she was crying, I could tell that she was trying to be strong for me. My dog seemed to sense what was going on, she stuck right by my side the entire time.

Even my best friend was scared, and she’s never scared. She was the tough-guy type. I guess seeing her worried kind of worried me, but only for her sake, not for my own or anyone else’s or even the world’s.

Despite all of the fear around me and the knowledge that the world was ending, for some reason, I felt fine.

Maybe it was because school was cancelled or maybe it was because I just didn’t care anymore.

I had spent the last few months in a headspace where I didn’t see the point in living anymore. I guess if not by my will, then it looked like Mother Nature was going to take care of it for me.

I guess when I knew I was going to die, it made me want to live again.

The school didn’t close down immediately, though, we went for another day just to get everything in order. They gave us papers to last us through a few weeks without school, but most of the teachers told us not to worry about them. They had mostly just said that it was a pleasure to have us in class and let us spend the period with our friends.

The stores stayed open for a few days, but eventually people stopped showing up for work. People stormed them for the first few days, and they were left looking like a wasteland. They were sold out of nearly everything and they didn’t expect to get new shipments, mostly because they didn’t think the world would last until their shipments were supposed to arrive.

The skies were an odd color, one that you might not have been able to find on the color wheel. It was a combination of smoke from the fires and dark clouds rolling in from the storms on the ocean. An east versus west scenario, and we had the great fortune of being in the middle.

The air was weird too, it was constantly feeling like the calm before the storm, and not in the sense where we were waiting for something to happen, but in the sense that the air felt the way it did before a storm. It’s hard to describe it, but the world was almost quieter. It smelled smoky because of the fires, though it wasn’t overwhelming.

The sun didn’t come out. Well, I suppose it did, I don’t think the sun knew the world was ending, but you couldn’t tell one way or another. It wasn’t dark out, but there certainly wasn’t any light either. Another situation where we found ourselves in between.

When a couple days had passed, it felt like everyone was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, like our adrenaline had been pumping for two days straight and now everyone was starting to feel the toll that takes.

My best friend, Leah, and I were in my backyard that day.

“The Catholic Church has reported a 110% increase of congregation members,” she read out an article from her phone.

I was busy looking at the trees, but I was still listening. “They’re going to church for the wrong reasons,” I off-handedly replied.

“Says the atheist.”

“Just because I’m not religious doesn’t mean that I can’t tell when people are turning to religion for the wrong reasons,” I looked at her, “They’re only going to try and save their mortal soul while the apocalypse is raging on around them.”

“So you don’t think they really believe in what they’re asking for a savior from?”

“Belief is a gray area,” I murmured before turning my attention back to the trees.

It was a beautiful day out, and I was actually enjoying it for the first time in a long time. I hadn’t realized just how long it had been since Leah and I had hung out. Somewhere around the time when she wouldn’t stop asking if I was okay was my best guess.

But now that didn’t matter, because she was my best friend and no one was okay so that wasn’t really a valid question anymore.

But in all seriousness, when I knew my time was about to be up, it made me want to make the most of the time I had left.

And most people would think that I mean partying all night or kissing the person I’ve had a crush on since middle school, but that wasn’t me.

I wanted to sit on my rooftop and look at the stars, which is something I had been doing ever since I figured out how to climb out of my window onto the top of our house.

I wanted to read books and watch movies and bake cookies and take my dog on walks and spend time with the people that I cared about.

I wanted to do the things I used to love.

And I know that I should have been concerned and worried and scared about the world ending, but there was something about the end of the world that seemed like a good thing to me.

And that’s not my watch-the-world-burn cynicism, that’s the fact that it wasn’t just my world that was ending. It was everyone else’s world ending too.

My own world had been ending for months, and now I wasn’t alone.

Not everyone else had taken up my sudden sunny disposition, though. In fact, the world was kind of falling down around me. Lifetime grudges ended with a brawl in the street. The government was crumbling at a loss for any way to help. People seemed like they completely changed; marriages fell apart and so did families.

Although that is definitely my watch-the-world-burn cynicism talking. For some people, this was their wake up call. Petty fights ended and bucket lists were being crossed off. Family feuds were resolved and relationships saved.

Somewhere around the fifth day, people started to settle down. Sure, the world still looked like it was ending, but we were all tired of waiting for it to. After spending five days wondering if each breath would be your last, you fall into a wary sense of calm. Maybe even a false sense of security.

But then, after a week, something changed. The news stations started acting like they all knew a secret we didn’t. They were advertising the nightly news far more than they had before. My parents had been watching religiously every night, but I always avoided the news.

That night, though, I didn’t have a choice. It felt like every household in the nation was going to be tuning in, and who was I to miss out?

It felt like when you’re in the hospital and the doctor comes back in, the part when you look at them and beg for good information. “So how bad is it?” you would ask.

So there we were, huddled around the tv like it was our life blood. From the outside looking in, the scene of us appeared to be what I thought people watching the first moon landing would have looked like: on the edge of their seats, saying a silent prayer even if they weren’t religious, and holding their breath.

Honestly I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for anymore. The end of the world seemed like a good thing not too long ago, but maybe there was more to it than that.

I guess I was ambivalent, I would be okay either way. I made a silent promise to myself that I would be okay if the world was going to be too right before the news announcer came back on the screen.

Suddenly, we heard him exclaim, “The firefighters have just managed to put out the last of the fire.”

Okay, I thought, one down, two to go.

Breathlessly, he added, “This just in: the National Weather Service has revoked their warning for our area, it seems like one of the natural disasters dissipated in the ocean while the other hit an uninhabited island about 50 miles off the coast.”

50 miles wasn’t far, we came close.

Something akin to relief flooded over me, and I wasn’t sure why.

But then I heard it: nothing.

The ringing that had been in our ears for days was now silent. They had turned off the emergency alarms.

I guess it really was over.

Behind me, I heard my parents jump up and hug each other. Shortly after, I felt their arms around me. My mom was crying and my dad was laughing but I could tell that they were both feeling the same thing: relief.

A minute ago, I was feeling it too. But now, I felt the old feeling start to set in, the numbness. I knew I should be happy, just as I had known I should have been scared when all of this started.

The world around me felt muted, like I was watching everything in slow motion with the volume on low.

I had promised myself that I would be okay if this happened, but maybe that was just going to be another lie I told myself or another promise broken.

So there I sat, with everyone around me rejoicing while I suddenly was reminded of the feeling that my own world was ending, which was the only one I had ever been concerned about in the first place.

Selfish, I know.

As the next few days passed, I remembered what this feeling was like. For some reason, a week of not feeling it had made me forget. I didn’t want to remember.

It was even harder to fake being happy now, because everyone around me was the happiest they had ever been, so it was a lot easier to spot people pretending.

“Honey,” my mom began one day, “you okay?”

I had heard that tone before, the kind of tone you would use when approaching a wild animal, slow with a slight lilt at the end. That used to be the only tone she ever used with me, and I hadn’t missed it.

The concern that was dripping from her voice was enough to make my stomach churn, and I think it’s safe to say that the next smile I faked was the hardest one I had to do.

“Yep,” I grinned. “Just not looking forward to school,” I joked.

She chuckled lightly before patting my shoulder and proceeding to talk about what was for dinner, but I didn’t hear any of it. I was lost in my own world again, I was staring out the kitchen window into the backyard at the trees, but they weren’t as beautiful as they were a few days ago.

I watched those around me, and I saw how relieved they were. I wanted to feel that, but I couldn’t bring myself to. 

And I knew I had to honor the promise that I made to myself. Because I couldn’t keep living like this, I don’t know how I had done it for so long before. I couldn’t only want to live if I knew I was going to die.

So I sat my parents down, and I had the hard conversation. I told them the truth, which was another thing that I hadn’t done in a long time. I told Leah the truth too.

It was terrifying, but it was worth it.

Because today I baked cookies from scratch. I read a book while they were in the oven and I walked my dog to Leah’s house after they cooled.

The numb feeling wasn’t completely gone, there were still some dark days, but there were more good days than not.

I guess sometimes your world has to end before you can rebuild it. And rebuilding is hard, it’s gruelling and it takes everything you have in you and sometimes you’ll wonder if it will ever even work, but it’s worth it.

Because my world doesn’t feel like it’s ending anymore.

And I wouldn’t feel fine if the rest of the world was going to end either.