We get obsessed with the end coming, keep guessing how it will happen and films just fuel this, TV shows do, until storylines are so firmly planted we’re waiting for planets and asteroids, comets, diseases to end us in our sleep.
We don’t know how it will happen, and the predictions are wrong mostly. The Bible says fire. It also says a woman should be silent in church, that the husband is the head of the wife, so I’m hedging my bets on The Road being right, I’m hoping for Melancholia.
The scenarios we don’t like, we ignore, we stop them showing up on our News Feeds and our Twitter Feeds and we pretend you can just cut out, cut off what you want. We can’t cope with all-consuming. We open our bug-out bags too early. Our attention spans are shot and you can blame The O.C. if you want, you can say it’s Eastenders. But focus has always been hard, for the best of us, and the rest, we’re just waiting to die.