It is 8 PM the night before the movers come and almost none of my stuff is packed up, because I am sitting here terrified of the future.

People on here who are just smart enough to be criminally stupid are merrily celebrating a slow collapse into civil war. I’m terrified of what’s coming for my country, I am terrified about whether or not my parents and grandfather are going to survive a breakdown in civil order.

I put little stock in my own life but I’m scared for myself, about whether I can keep above water long enough to outlast what’s coming. I’m scared about whether I’m going to be able to put any kind of a life together in Texas, because I am all out of time and places to run.

I’m torn between being glad that I don’t have the responsibility for having brought a child into this and shepherding them through it, and immensely saddened at the last chance to ever be a father likely slipping away in the disaster of covid and pantomime “revolutionary” fervor.

I feel utterly isolated, so much so that I even signed back on to this stupid website, because politics is now a constant presence in almost every relationship. It must be danced around and avoided and dodged, and keeping human connections alive despite it is exhausting.

And I have friends who are struggling to make it amid the economic disaster of covid, friends going through emotional crises as the world collapses around them, and not a single thing either party is proposing is going to help them. So fuck you both and fuck your culture war.

I am possessed of a cold and abiding fury at ideologues who cannot for one moment demonstrate concern for anything beyond the chance to exert power. If there is a hell then you will reach it with the curses of your forefathers ringing in your ears. May your graves be forgotten.

And with that said, I suppose it’s time to get back to work. It’s all we can do, put one block on top of another, until the world ends.