The Last Man on Earth

I've been thinking about you my entire life, whoever you are. I've been waiting. My entire life.<br><br>What would you want me to do now? You'd be the first person I'd spoken with, face to face, in over 30 years. I'm 53 now. We've lost so much. Is this a celebratory moment? I can't tell.<br><br>I'm sitting in a very old, leather office chair that I found in an abandoned building. Behind me, roughly 40 feet, are thousands of golden balloons. <br><br>Over the last 40 or so years I've slowly corked each one by inflating them with air and then tied them off, collecting them on the large grassy field where I'll meet you. That's what I've been doing with my time.<br><br>Do I just sit and smile? Or do I tell you about the balloons? Do I start with the first time I thought of you? At the age of 9, I figured out I would never die, and I immediately wished for your existence.<br><br>What would it be like to have someone to talk to? To share my adventures?<br><br>Why are you here? Are you like me? You think of me too?<br><br>I know I'm not mistaken. The balloons can't fool a man who has spent 30 years checking for people. If you were in the area, you'd see the balloons. I made sure of that.<br><br>Shall I tell you about tomorrow? When I supply the field with white plastic chairs, and a grand piano and a special song for you?<br><br>I could just sit in silence. Would you find it comforting? Would you be relieved? There's only one of you. You must be thinking of only me.<br><br>A lifetime's worth of questions bottled up inside of me, and besides the balloons, I can think of nothing of substance to say. What would you like to know about the balloons, if anything?<br><br>Or maybe you can tell me why you're here? Or who you are, or the story of how you've gotten here.<br><br>I know it's not a coincidence. You've been searching for me too, because you've been searching for yourself. We're the two puzzles in the world without pieces to fit into. <br><br>And now, as I sit in a field staring down a road while thousands of floating balloons dance behind me, I realize this moment is about you. <br><br>It should be.<br><br>I'm an old man now. And I've lived a life that has so far been defined only by a singular desire to know you. Who are you? How is it you're here?<br><br>Are you here for me? Me, or just for you?