John Mitchell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
humanistic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2014-12-29 08:21 pm
humanistic) wrote in ataraxion2014-12-29 08:21 pm
Entry tags:
text.
My best mate disappeared. One Jump he was here, the next he was gone. They do memorial services over less. They play sad CDs and run video, put out photos, and everyone gets together for a meal and a cry and a few drinks. I haven't been to a funeral in years and years. I know it's not changed. Humanity doesn't change.
I don't know why I waited a month to say anything about him. I suppose it doesn't matter. Those memorials, and the wakes, and funerals, those are all for the people left behind. I know that and I'm still writing this. You want it to matter. You want them to matter.
I don't know if he's dead or not. And if he is, I don't know what happens to him next. There's no ghosts here, except the ones that have come in with the rest of us. I've been on this ship nearly two fucking years and I don't know any of it. And that's the worst of it. People talk about this ship like it's sentient. Like it's got some bloody personality, someone behind the wheel. We're always trying to figure out bits of it, like it's all somehow going to come clear. Like there's logic to it. There's no logic. It's like a wheel. It turns, and shit happens, and then it turns again, on and on and on. You can trust me on that. I've lived a long fucking time.
What I know is I'm tired of this. Being the last one left.
His name was George Sands. I wanted to put it down somewhere. It's stupid, but now it's done.
I don't know why I waited a month to say anything about him. I suppose it doesn't matter. Those memorials, and the wakes, and funerals, those are all for the people left behind. I know that and I'm still writing this. You want it to matter. You want them to matter.
I don't know if he's dead or not. And if he is, I don't know what happens to him next. There's no ghosts here, except the ones that have come in with the rest of us. I've been on this ship nearly two fucking years and I don't know any of it. And that's the worst of it. People talk about this ship like it's sentient. Like it's got some bloody personality, someone behind the wheel. We're always trying to figure out bits of it, like it's all somehow going to come clear. Like there's logic to it. There's no logic. It's like a wheel. It turns, and shit happens, and then it turns again, on and on and on. You can trust me on that. I've lived a long fucking time.
What I know is I'm tired of this. Being the last one left.
His name was George Sands. I wanted to put it down somewhere. It's stupid, but now it's done.