I have observed some trepidation with some of my more brutal methods of sparing my family. I assure you, they do not suffer.
But maybe they should.
Is a lack of feeling not what I find myself up against? Is pain not an affirmation of the very existence I wish my family to remain a part of, even long after the Quiet has claimed their iteration?
As Stephen King once wrote, sometimes, dead is better.
And, as I have observed through falling through countless iterations of existence, pain is the ultimate teacher.
Perhaps my children deserve a lesson. Something to ground them in reality, a reality that is fading before their very eyes.
Or maybe, the loneliness is wearing at me. Perhaps this is not about helping them. Perhaps I am jealous that they get to die and I am too much of a coward to end this suffering for myself. Too afraid to risk my own death to actually go through with the most obvious solution to my problem, the same solution I have applied to my family countless times.
Something more to think about as this world crumbles, at the very least.