I wish I had better news about how things are going for you right now.
I’ll be honest. I hope you’re not there to read this. At this point in our life, in this history, I don’t want 58 more years of this. In fact to be totally honest most nights we pray that tomorrow never comes.
Maybe there is some point between now and then that I can’t imagine from this perspective where all the things that make it so hard to be alive right now are fixed.Maybe.
I won’t bore you with the details. Its the second Trump presidency. We’re at the part where he’s invading Iran because he is a pedophile. On the Germany track I put us at about 1936.
The Fascists won. The super rich won. We lost. The game is over.
You’ve got a corporate ticket onto the Ark and your only concern is keeping it for you and your family. Your industry is on fire, your company is on fire. All you think about is money and how there will never be enough. Your job is burning holes in your stomach and your hair is falling out.You are worth more dead than you ever will be alive. You think about this fact a LOT.
There is a homeless epidemic. People with jobs live in their cars. Rent is $2000, houses are $250k for the smallest of the small in cheaper places.You design cars that cost about 70k on average. Everyone you know is one mistake away from an economic death sentence.
You are absolutely silent. You don’t even shit post on main anymore. You’re too scared to protest. You have some valid excuses for yourself. The risk to reward is skewed heavily towards risk. They have killed a few people. The risk of losing your job is really high. Mass shooters are a daily occurrence. And there hasn’t been so much fervor for a Holy War since the Crusades. Everybody has guns. You have guns. You’re still ashamed.
And isolated. Your morals and values were applied too strongly and you were mostly rejected by your friends. And you crave isolation anyway. Its just better when you can blame it on them.
Something, something, one Nazi at the table.
You’re a middling dad. See “isolated” above. A terrible husband. You can feel the time passing. You’re smart enough to know you’ll hate yourself later for not being present in the now. But you still spend every moment of your day attached to a screen. The one drug I don’t think you’ll ever quit. You don’t bother with excuses anymore.
You think a lot. They are not good thoughts. You do not enjoy them.
If you’re still alive I’m not telling you anything new. I’m sure your favorite hobby still is replaying the missteps you took in life. In wallowing in your inability to see the good. How excessively easy it is for you to revel in the bad.
But I hope you’re gone and I hope it was fast and that is about all the hope I have left in me.
Sincerely,
You, at 42 responding to a writing prompt on a dead blog.
The Paper Trail 