Now that the world is at a point where love is not so apparent and blinding, we will all live freely of one another, given enough laps around the numbers on the clock. Humans will no longer spend nights with their pillows, or dogs, or favorite movies crying over what could have been, since there is no longer a “what could have been.” These humans will have finally realized that there is no key hidden in any possible future with any stranger they meet. They will no longer wander at night, or even during the day, hoping someone who fits their quarks and can laugh at those quarks with them is any one of the infinite souls they see in a day. They will hardly ever fight, because we humans only fight over things we love: money, steadiness, even love itself, etc.
These humans spoken of will be our children’s children, of course, for we have too many weighted, overstuffed suitcases to unpack in this new apartment we have found ourselves now sitting in. We will sit in these new places and still think of all those we loved, whether for the shortest time ever recorded or the longest. Our children will see us crying while making dinner, but they will not understand because this concept of love, which we cry over, is drifting out even more in their minds. They will come to us as elementary school students, frustrated that a girl or boy won’t talk to them, but it will end at that extent. They will not stop eating because their crush did not accept their valentine in class that day. They will not despondently lie in bed through their several alarm clocks, ignoring their obligations because their high school sweetheart broke up with them. They will not spend multiple paychecks on a crafted piece of metal with a useless, shiny rock on top, only to realize that their feelings of monogamy have changed as the first year of their marriage bore into them. They will have no need for these useless emotions, though they may feel a residual tinge now and again, caused only by us.
Their children, however, will feel a joy neither our children nor we could ever imagine, and they will never question why they are so indispensably jovial. When they sense a connection with another human, they will recognize it as simply that and nothing else. They will be logical and much smarter than we ever hoped even our children would be. One day, with all this knowledge and lack of such deep pains and regrets, these grandchildren will visit us in our nursing homes and, ironically enough, be the ones giving us advice as to dealing with such wrenching heartbreaks. But because we are so panged with the bruises of living, we will not listen, and it will only be another fault to learn from.
