You’ve all heard the sweet little horror story that is only two sentences long**.
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…
No one more than me, a horror movie aficionado, gets the suspense of it all. The unknown. The fear of the worst. The lack of anyone to hear you scream. But I guess if I was the last person on earth the thought of that knock would stir feelings of hope rather than dread.
A few years ago, the thought of being the last person on earth would have been scary enough for me without the knock. A few years ago I declared, what I now refer to as, social bankruptcy. The amount of energy I was expelling into acquaintances-disguised-as-friends was becoming exhausting and feeling alone in a room full of people was worse than actually being alone.
Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t turned into the ultimate hermit but I find my circle of friends being reduced down to about 6 truly amazing people. I spend most of my time writing, reading, goofing off, rewatching shows from the early 2000′s, and playing a continuous game of fetch in which I am always the loser….and I honestly couldn’t be happier.
There is something about leading a small life that is simple, easy, quiet, and stress free.
There is something comforting about knowing exactly who that knock is coming from.
** The author does elaborate the planet had been wiped out by aliens and the knock on the door is the last woman on earth.