Nobody tells you it’s the last time.
They assume you’ll notice.
Already Happened is about the ordinary endings that never announce themselves. We expect important moments to arrive carrying music, speeches or at least a reasonable amount of ceremony. Most don’t. They arrive disguised as routine: the last familiar journey, the last visit to a place, the last conversation before life quietly rearranges itself around something else. Only later, often years later, do they reveal what they were. Indi-Glo Blue isn’t mourning the past so much as noticing how effortlessly it slips into it. The important days rarely look important while we’re living them. They mostly look like Tuesday.
Funny thing about last times.
Most of them have already happened.
There was a road I used to drive
without deciding where it led.
Knew the corners, knew the houses,
knew which lights would change ahead.
Couldn’t tell you when I stopped.
Nothing said to pay attention.
One day it was part of everything.
Then it wasn’t anymore.
No closing scene.
No final line.
Just something ordinary
for the final time.
It already happened.
Didn’t notice when it went.
No last look, nothing marked it.
Just another day
I didn’t think to keep.
It already happened.
I only noticed afterwards.
There were people I saw constantly.
Then monthly.
Then sometimes.
Nobody fell out.
Nothing broke.
Life just got remarkably good
at filling in the gaps.
Places changed eventually.
Shops went, signs came down.
I still know exactly where things were.
Which isn’t much use now.
No warning bell.
No grand goodbye.
Just one more ordinary
final time.
It already happened.
Didn’t notice when it went.
No last look, nothing marked it.
Just another day
I didn’t think to keep.
It already happened.
I only noticed afterwards.
There are clothes I stopped wearing,
songs I somehow stopped putting on.
A version of me knew every word.
He seems to have moved along.
Things I thought I’d always do
became things I used to do.
No decision.
No announcement.
Apparently that’s enough.
You expect the important ones
to look important.
They don’t.
They look like Tuesday.
Half past four.
Keys on the table.
Nothing unusual.
Then years later you realise…
that was it.
It already happened.
Didn’t notice when it went.
No last look, nothing marked it.
Just another day
I didn’t think to keep.
It already happened.
No warning.
Nothing changed.
Just something I was still doing…
until I wasn’t anymore.
Funny thing about last times.
You usually find out late.