Why do I persist? There is nothing left for me here. Everyone I knew is gone I stare upon the corpse of a civilization, relishing in the reveries of what I had. Those days are gone. I remain. Perhaps this place truly is timeless. Perhaps in the future, today will be looked upon fondly. Perhaps, in a better future, I'm looked upon with some nostalgia. Or perhaps there really is nothing. That's more likely, isn't it? That the world as I know it has come to an end, and soon the rest of everything will follow suit. At the death of a universe, none remain to pay respects. Perhaps there is beauty in that.