Ephemeral Fantasia

As a race, I think it's often said, we're afraid of quite a few things. We're afraid of change - that's for sure. You only need to look at the way people oppose new governments, new technologies, new ways of life to figure that one out. I guess, also, we're afraid of the unknown. Watch your average horror flick and you'll see that the camera, the plot and the acting is designed to play against what you don't know and see to make you feel that little bit more afraid. What I find funny though, is that you never hear of us being afraid of those two fears combined. Today, though, I feel afraid of Tomorrow. Today, two of my friends broke up. I use the word friends loosely, of course, because they were the kind of people with whom I was never quite sure where I stood. They had been going out for a few months, but I'd never really got to know them as a couple much. Maybe I saw them kissing once or twice. Might even have seen them holding hands. I heard of their escapades. I witnessed their arguments. I was told of their downfall. I can't say, heartless though it may sound, that I feel much remorse. Something, however, has snapped in this world though. When I walk back from my girlfriend's at night, the walk is a lonely one. Sometimes the moon blazes across the open sky, nudging stars behind the gauze of the urban light clutter and providing me with a beacon home. Mostly, though, I'm treated to kebab shops and townies. There are always the thirty-somethings smoking their cigarettes, swigging their lagers. They might glare at me as they stroll past into the slightly offputting fast-food shop, but mostly there isn't much of a problem. A few old biddies totter out of the bingo hall. Altogether, quite dull yet generally inoffensive. The only highlight is the sight of a couple walking down the lamplit street together, hand in hand clutching some part of their dream. Tonight though, the street is lifeless. A couple strolls past me, but all I see is Tomorrow. Tomorrow where they wake up, break up and move on. Tomorrow, where the rock of dependency is washed away into an ocean of time. I brush my hands over the quilt cover of my girlfriend's bed, but it feels as harsh and unforgiving as the cold air outside. Something has changed. The couple itself did not affect me - I don't think this feeling is from any love lost (although, of course I couldn't tell you if any had been or not). I cannot remember my exact reaction to the announcement. I might have laughed to myself quietly. I might have widened my eyes in surprise. I don't know. All I know is, that the sensation of permanence, the feeling that things Will Always Be is not here with me any more. The Ephemeral Fantasia is beginning to slip through my hands, and the more I clutch at it the more it slips away. Mark and Roxanne - what was it that drove you? What was it that took you through those four months? What was it that cut it off? Was it the planning for Tomorrow that made you appreciate Today? Or was it the safety of Today that made you forget that Tomorrow was going to come, someday? I don't know. I guess none of us do. But maybe we will, tomorrow, the day after - someday. Perhaps this is the transience that defines adulthood - the draining of immortality, the sapping of youth, the understanding of time. Perhaps things will be better in the morning? Tomorrow, as they say, is another day. But Tomorrow, as they say, never comes.