Martha Siddhartha

An end was depressed about being an end and only an end, nothing special. It is the wish of every end to be the end, but no end is ever the end, so every end must come to terms with its indefinite existence and accept that it is only an end among ends. But this end couldn't bring itself to come to terms with anything, and so it took small but deliberate, defiant comfort in being, if not the end, then at least this end, which is specific and deictic and not amorphous, common, or indefinite. Yes. This end.