So here I sit, in Minnesota, as a 44-year-old prospective artist living in my mom’s basement with my husband. Fully devoid of hope. I have dreams, sure. But, my eyes are also open. And, I know it’s only a matter of time before things hit their breaking point in America. So, I don’t believe there is a future for me. That’s hard to acknowledge.
I am not a victim in any of this. That’s important. Because, my story most certainly will bring sadness to those who are still living under the “Veil of Capitalism” and those people will want to feel sorry for me. Don’t. I am a white woman born to a semi-wealthy family in the Midwest. If I fail, if I become hungry, if I suffer, if I need a lawyer, if I want to quit, if I need a job, if I need a place to live, etc. Etc. Etc. My privilege will provide. If you feel sorry for me, then you’ve completely missed the point. You’re falling for it once again, that narrative that some people don’t deserve poverty or pain, depending on the color of their skin or their inherent privilege.
I'm losing everything, I'm so angry, and so sad
Who did you vote for
My child is not safe anymore
That's what it takes to drain the swamp
Please help me I'm hungry
get a job
My child is hungry, please help
tell your child to get a job
It’s February 19th, 2025. The world continues to burn around me, but this time my eyes are open. I spend more days hungry than satiated. Collective grief and pain riddle humanity after months of Psychological torture inlaid on us by the administration of the status quo. Rhetoric turns to fire, and humanity screams for mercy, but there is no mercy. Not now, not for a long time.
It’s March 20th, 2025. Humanity is under attack still. Suicide rates have skyrocketed. People ar losing their jobs and their homes. People are living in their cars. Homelessness is illegal. Forced prison labor camps are contracted and built. They are kidnapping people and sending them to extermination camps in El Salvador. They are cutting social programs, and laying off hundreds of thousands of federal workers.
It’s April 17th, 2025. The people seem weary and beaten. It appears that the machine is winning. There are hardly any protests anymore. The Dictator announced he will begin sending “homegrown terrorists” to El Salvador. He announced he will send anyone who disagrees with him publicly there without due process. The people are angry. But, they are mostly afraid.
I keep thinking about the phrase "the things we carry." It's burning a hole into my subconscious. I think it’s because although I understand suffering is important in order to become awakened, it is hard to tolerate. When I look ahead to the journey in front of me, knowing it is paved with heavy sorrow and torment, I take solice in knowing that I am taking this path by choice. And, I only need to bring on this journey what fills my soul. It means grudges, anger, resentment for the people and systems that raped us of our humanity and forced us into this soul prison can all be left behind. Anger doesn’t feed our souls, only love can do that.
Many people are fleeing for safety. But, for many, there isn't anywhere to go, the world is changing fast and nowhere is safe. I will not run from my fate. I will allow humanity to win, whether I get mercy or not. I don't fear the suffering or the pain. I don't fear the ostracism or isolation either.
get your passport
you're overreacting
It's a terrible time to be an empath. I can hear screams, cries, terrible sounds inside my head, coming from humanity, every day. The screams keep me up at night, they wake me up from sleep and I'm sweaty and afraid. It's one of those sounds that being on repeat will turn it to fire, and that fire will slowly and loudly etch away your soul. You will forever carry that sound wherever you go. You can't escape it. I can't escape it.
Mom, it's getting bad out here. They want me to be someone that I'm not. I can't. I can't go back into that closet without abandoning my soul and the true essence of who I am. Please know, that when they come for me, I will not go quietly.
Mom, it's me. There's a black van outside my house and I'm scared. I think they're here because of my political views. Maybe I should have been more careful about posting my opinions. Mom, they're coming. They have guns. I won't go quietly. I love you mom, and I'm sorry.
Mom, I don't have enough money to eat. I haven't eaten in days. Can you help me?
Mom, I don't understand. You told me the world was fair, and just, and that humanity was good overall. I just watched ICE take away my coworkers, my neighbors, my friends. Why didn't you tell me this is really how the world works.
Mom, if Marshal Law is declared, I'll be on my way to your house. If, somehow, I am stopped and taken along the way, I plan to resist until the very end. If you hear that I have died, please know that I died kicking some Nazi fuck in the balls. I love you.
These are dark times. Humanity is dying. I share these stories with you, because these are my stories to share. I fear Humanity has many battles ahead. I fear most of us will not survive what is next for us. I hope we find each other, and in the process, we find Humanity again, and Humanity wins against greed. I hope, that if all is lost, we can at least hold on to each other as the world burns. I love you.
Melissa
