The feeling undergirding everything, for me, for everyone maybe: waves of nauseating, terrifying, debilitating fear of death.
Brushing my teeth, "Your life is a cobblestone in a road leading either to the edge of an apocalyptic cliff or an emerald city populated by strangers who will never know your name or hold gratitude in their hearts for the sacrifices you made on their behalf."
How have we been convinced not to feel anger that our worlds must end?
Weird pride, filling my heart with passion against this moment of national self-annihilation. Samurai partisanship. The Tea Party one drop in a sea of historical insult. I want your heads on pikes before I disappear.
Long road. Long, bumpy road.
