I sat on the couch
watching the news
as a story came on.
"The Mayans predict the end"
was all I heard.
Paranoia grasped my mind
as I turned off the TV
and sat in silence.
Was it true? Could they do that?
I was excited to grow up,
but if the world ended
that dream would disappear.
For weeks and months the idea
walked back into my mind
and one day I asked my mother.
She laughed and said, "don't worry about it,
the world ends all the time."
This made it worse.
Did the world end every 64 million years
and 2012 happened to be the lucky year?
I shuttered at the thought,
but tried to ignore the fear by distraction.
One night, however, a broadcast came on the radio
and, with my luck, I woke up to it
at 1:00 in the morning.
It was a warning for a large storm
that could destroy homes and lives.
This was it, this was the end.
But day came and the week passed
and the world spun on.
Perhaps my imagination got the best of me,
but it's now December 21, 2012.
It ends tonight
and I'm ready to die for the third
or fourth time in my life.