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Free Writing on a Snowy May Morning

Yes, it's almost mid-May, and snow is on the ground and in the forecast. I've had a bit of a mental block the last few days, so I'm just going to hammer these keys for eight minutes.

I feel myself moving right. There is something more appealing about doing and failing miserably than not doing anything at all. This doesn't have to mean only politics, but it's this current world we live in. Lethargy has taken hold. Even those I see who are working lake the ability to move at a normal pace. Complaining is the new "Hello." Asking how someone is, is now getting a long answer. I'm exhausted by the negativity. I'm surrounded by it and it's much more contagious than this virus. Maybe we should open up and let the real virus attack all those riddled with stress and anxiety, created by their own delusions of grandeur. Those narcissists sure are having a hard time these days. Nobody to recognize them. Most, so self-absorbed, they never realized they weren't being recognized at all. If ignorance is bliss, what must the joys of delusion be like? I don't care about what Trump says. I care about what he does and doesn't do. How immature are people who still act surprised? How delusional are they to believe that a man in his 70s can change, when they can't at half his age. We are all Trump. We try to look smart, or at least calm, while we really know nothing. Fear is not my feeling, but I'm growing apathy. Apathy for those who feel trapped in their expensive homes, never really understanding the struggle. I have enough money to pay rent, buy groceries, cat food, and litter. A bottle of booze numbs the painful reality, that come July, I'm unemployed. No income, no nest egg, no home to call my own. I block it out, while Karen from Facebook complains about the noise, the people, the loneliness. Karen is everyone. People who spend most of their lives pushing people away and asking to speak to the manager. Never happy to be treated as well as they treat others. She's become iconic. Imagine what a time we live in when incessant complaints are iconized by memes, jokes, and hairstyles. The haircut, so many, forced to live without. The Horror. The Horror. This is the End. 

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