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apocalyptic

apocalyptic love apology

You can’t see the font this is written in. It’s been filtered half a dozen times. Been sent to satellite and back again. Transmitted. Coded. Encrypted. Decrypted. Message Acknowledged, Over and Out.
But you’ve never been here, or seen the wasteland around me. For all I know, you’re sitting in a Starbucks or grocery store, or someplace or another. And when you get this message, you’re going to think it’s fiction, but it’s not.
I am writing this from the End of the World.

Fuck, I can’t believe I wrote that sentence.

The END of the WORLD.