You’re Not The Fucked Up One

This is how I feel:

Simply fucking yelling.

Its alright if youre screaming, too.

If youre not alright, its all right.

And its fine were not alright.

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( And I keep in mind that even going outdoors is a benefit today, with numerous locations experiencing ash and smoke or bad weather. I just indicate to recommend you put down the phone and attempt to take some moments of peace far from the maw of the maelstrom.).

Im not alright. Youre not all right. And its fine were not okay.

Its alright if youre sad and worried and mad all the time and its all right if brushing your teeth feels like a brave minute and if you cant stop doomscrolling the Apocalyptic Stock Ticker that is social media.

However your brain isnt misfiring.

I see it too.

Possibly you feel that method too.

I feel like Im the screwed up one. I seem like Ive gone cuckoo bananapants, due to the fact that I watch out into the world and I see individuals who think the pandemic isnt real; I see them not wearing masks anymore; I see people who in some way think Trump is doing a great task, or that believe hes accomplished anything; I see individuals who live in a reality where blue state cities are locations Snake Plissken would need to get away from; where Democrat Pedophiles are delivering kids in furniture; where researchers are traitors peddling environment change coronavirus dream however Jesus Christ was a white guy with an AR-15 who combated to make sure corporations were people, the bad got fucked, and no one raised his Dad-blamed taxes. I feel like Im caught in some Hellraiser puzzle cube, some mirror universe trap where on my side of the mirror there are still things like typical decency and compassion and shared truth, and on the other side are people who believe that wearing a mask in a shop is the same thing as being a Black guy summarily performed in front of his household for composing a bad check.

There is a toilet on fire in the living-room.

I dont understand that were going to be all right. We can attempt in spite of whatever to care about ourselves and each other through whatever comes– and that can be our real north, a star to chart the dark.

It feels like my brain is misfiring.

May you take minutes of peace from the jaws of chaos.

( This is based off a Twitter thread I did the other day that seemed to resonate, so Im letting it live here, too, in a more blog-flavored format.).

Your reaction is that youre not alright because things are quite not okay. It is perfectly acceptable, normal, and expected to feel fucked up in a fucked up circumstance. Damaged politics, Zoom school, gender expose forest fires, Patriotic Re-Education, Herman Cain tweeting about the scam infection that he really died from– in this endlessly scrolling set of brand new WE DIDNT START THE FIRE * verses, its easy to feel like youre the damaged one. Youre not. Youre simply responding to a broken world. And not just broken in a typical method– but broken in a manner in whichs hard to parse, that doesnt form tidy fractures. The difference between a snapped femur and somebody who stuck one hand in a mixer. Were tip-toeing throughout a tightrope, and on one side is a gorge of Absurdist Incompetence and on the other is a pit of Active Malevolence and were just trying not to fall.

p.s. wear your fuckin masks for chrissakes.

The things you see are genuine.

And occasionally, this brute force attack on our collective psyche, it works. I think, maybe Im the damaged one? Maybe Im the partisan asshole? Like, is it even remotely possible that Trump is no worse than any other president, that life under Obama was some sort of nightmare world, that COVID-19 isnt genuine? Its just a moment. And then I remember individuals I know who got ill or died from it, and I take a look at the realities, the real (sing it with me) realities of life, and I yawp once again into deep space THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS despite the fact that they want me to admit that I see five.

And then you see a parade of dicknoses who I guess think that AIR does not come out of their NOSEHOLES just their MOUTHPITS and then you get on Facebook and you see some ding-dong relative sharing a screengrab of a marvelously phony tweet where Joe Biden stated something about how hes gon na raise your taxes and turn your kids into dogfood and change the name of the country to the United Socialist States of Berniecratimerica, and you begin to yell? You simply scream. You yell into a pillow, into your clenched fists, into a box, into the hollow of an old tree where the Earth takes your scream and nurtures it into a flock of starving winged things.

Ive no responses how to make it okay. I stroll and listen to birds and high-five pine trees and it feels a little better. Not okay, however closer to it.

Its alright that youre not fine.

And I hope we get to discover moments where we are fine, and that we can take it, and hold it, and sustain it. Its okay to be afraid thats likewise not whats going to happen, too. We can rage and yell and we can vote and we can do what we can and what we must to withstand.

Your response is that youre not okay due to the fact that things are extremely much not okay. Ive no responses how to make it okay. I dont understand that were going to be alright. Its all right to be scared thats likewise not whats going to take place, too.

These are screwed up times.

* I used to think that our current reality is broken due to the fact that of that weasel that fucked the Hadron Collider, and now I fear that Billy Joel pissed off a wizard someplace and now hes secured a tower, required to compose increasingly terrible new verses to WE DIDNT START THE FIRE that the wizard makes real with his shitty wizard magics. We need to find and complimentary Billy Joel from the wizard trap! Prior to all of truth is doomed by his songsmithy! Were coming, Billy Joel! Simply hang on! Dont compose any more! For the love of god, Montressor, dont try to rhyme anything to “gender-reveal forest-fire!” Wait no Billy Joel what are you composing oh god youre composing SLENDERMAN WALRUS SPIRE what the fuck does that mean oh god oh shit oh fuck.

And its okay.

I seem like Im being in a living space and in the middle of the room theres a toilet on fire, and no one else will declare to see the toilet, or the fire. And if I press, they inform me, “The fire toilet is antifa propaganda, simply eat your fuckin Spaghetti-Os.”

It is regular to feel screwed up in response to them.

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