…in the wilderness.
So, 2020 is a thing. Those of us who are living it right now get all the weight this year is slamming down.
For future me, who may very well not read this post for another year unless I get back to my writing thang (or maybe you who are not me who are wondering what in holy hell are you talking about?), it is the year of COVID, quarantine and social distance. It is a year of imprisoning immigrants and separating families. It is a year where people have to say explicitly that Black lives do matter; that equality for humans is not a zero sum game; and it is an election year where an angry racist misogynistic tweeter tantruming child is president of this America the ugly.
I was taught not to be mean; that if you can’t say nice things you don’t speak. It means a measured happy composure…but that takes effort. It costs something to do that. So I spend more and more time holed up in my room not speaking at all.
It’s probably…okay, definitely not good to isolate so much, but conversation is hard. Topic for conversation that doesn’t reinforce how not right the world is right now is scant.
I’m tired.
I’m sure we all are.