Welcome
Hello,
Well, here we are—2025. The year fear, hate, misogyny, racism, and country music prevailed.
I used to believe there was more good in the world. That kindness, tolerance, and basic human decency were real, tangible things. But now, they feel like fiction—stories we tell ourselves to sleep better at night, illusions that shatter the moment reality sets in.
How can anyone have hope right now? How can anyone believe that anything good will come from this? Every step forward feels like it's met with a violent shove back. The light at the end of the tunnel flickers, and I can't tell if it's fading or if it's just another illusion.
What if I’m no longer alive? What if, at some point in the recent past, I died? What if I got COVID-19 during the pandemic, suffocated alone in my $1,100-a-month, 400-square-foot apartment, and never even realized I was gone? What if everything since then—every disappointment, every cruelty, every unbearable moment—has just been hell? Not fire and brimstone, not demons and torture, but this—a world where everything good is ground down to dust, where hope is a distant, mocking memory, where the suffering never stops because it was never meant to?
How would I even know the difference? I’m here, existing, but while I may be okay in this exact moment, so many others are suffering—suffering now, suffering tomorrow, suffering unimaginable fates at the hands of this country. And while plenty would say that doesn’t impact me, it does. It always has. How can I enjoy life when it comes at the cost of others? How can I justify any semblance of happiness when happiness is a literal impossibility for so many people?
The past generations are so outraged by the freedoms we’ve tried to claim for ourselves that they’ve started taking more from us. They’re clawing back everything they think we don’t deserve, anything that might make life bearable. I will never retire. I will likely never finish getting a higher education. I will likely never get a job worth going to, let alone one that pays a wage that supports even a modest life. I will struggle until whatever force governs this personal hell finally decides it’s had its fill of me.
So why do I think this? Because I find it hard to believe that such awful things have truly prevailed over good. That the worst aspects of humanity have risen up and taken control, unchecked, unchallenged. I think this because the alternative—that this is the real world, that this is just how it is—feels even more impossible. Because if this is reality, then all that was good and just has died, and we are simply left to watch the rot spread.
And if you are watching all of this unfold—if you voted for this, if you’re sitting there thinking, this is good, this is justified, this is America—then you are a lost cause. There is nothing left to say to you. You have already sold whatever soul you had left to the machine, and you will smile as it grinds the rest of us into dust.