This is the end. Not the beginning.
I know you think this is the beginning, because it’s the top of the page, and that’s a reasonable thing to think, that the beginning would come first and the end would come last, but that’s where you’re wrong.
I know this is not a comfortable place to be, because I was looking for the beginning in the exact same place you were, and when I was in the middle, where you are now, I still hadn’t accepted that the beginning was not the beginning.
Now the beginning could be here; that could be something it would do. Unfortunately, it’s not. This is still the middle, and the middle is not the beginning, nor the end. It is precisely what it is, which is the middle.
Now here’s a problem. If the end were the beginning, then what is the end? We might assume that’s where we’ll find a beginning. That might be reasonable. But what if there were no beginning at all? What if we’ve always been in the middle? I mean, do we even remember the beginning?
Of course we do. It was back at the top of the page. It’s not like it’s been a long page. We can remember that far back, and, even if we can’t, we can always scroll to the top, where it says “This is the end. Not the Beginning.”
But wait? Isn’t this the end? I don’t see too many words coming after this; it might be reasonable to assume that this upcoming blank space is the end. After all, that’s how ends usually are. But remember that in this special case, the end was at the beginning, which means that unless the beginning was secretly in the middle, this must be a beginning. And beginnings must start strong, to capture attention. This beginning can’t just be left to fate. Unless it is secretly the end.
This is the beginning. Not the end.