When the sun eventually burns out, what's living on this planet will have a few minutes whilst the last rays of sunshine travel through space, before The End. I'm no scientist, but I know that's not something on our immediate horizon... still though, it does make you think. Not just in the cliched kind of what-would-you-do-with-the-last-few-minutes sort of a way (priests would have to do the Last Rites en masse for all the death-bed Catholics. I think all of us recovering Catholics have an expectation of suddenly reconciling with the bloke we don't really believe in, at the end), but sort of in a... I don't know. All I know is that if The End was of an immediate concern, chances are, there'd be nothing I could do to stop it.
The sun doesn't care. Or, rather, it doesn't know that sometimes we think it should. The sun burns, whether we're cursing the cold, brittle light in winter, or squinting against the warm (warmer, anyway. This is England, let's not get carried away), strong light of summer. The sun won't try and deliberately burn out because of criticism hurdled over the weather. The sun doesn't care that you don't have a sufficient SPF on your skin, or that its rays might blind you as you're driving. The sun doesn't have fat days; I don't want to talk on its behalf, but I'm sure it has never looked upon its reflection on the moon and cursed its roundness. The sun just gets on with its purpose and burns, burns, burns, even when it's dark or cloudy or dark and cloudy. On good days and bad, the sun still burns.
When you look at the sky, you don't really know what you're looking at. You might be able to join the dots and create a picture and you might always be able to find your way through the North Star, but you don't know whether you're witnessing the glory days of a great sun, or are looking at a star that's actually been burnt out for years, a star whose light is still travelling to us. You don't know how many other people are looking at the same star as you, whether there's another you, a better you, looking at the star from another perspective, or, by the same token, a you who has done heinous things, gazing up.
I think what I'm trying to say is all about perspective. I can't change a lot things and I need to learn to pick my battles. I need to remember that there is always someone looking at the same situation from a completely separate vantage point, that another me, another you, might see all this differently. Let's be open-minded. I need to take on board the criticisms leveled at me (it was reiterated that I'm manipulative, misuse my intelligence etcetc, in my last ward round. To be honest, it was a complete assassination), and accept that in this situation, this is how I'm being perceived and all I can do is burn on, regardless. There probably won't be too any times in the real world when being intelligent will be an insult. The fact that I was told that any staff who have told me they don't agree with the damning character review are lying to me, makes it harder because now I feel like I can't trust anyone, that I'm not safe. But all I can do is burn and know that now I'm an adult, I'm in a stronger position that I was when I was an unsafe child. I'm the sun.
The sun is independent, but surrounded by other stars. I think that's a pretty wise position to be in. The sun does as it does best, and no matter how we complain (as we Brits often do), the sun is unaffected. When The End comes, the sun will burn out in a blaze of glory, knowing that its time has come and the end is natural. The sun will have done all it can and lived as brightly as natural, for it.