Here I am, more than half way into January of a new year and there’s no retrospective, there’s no plan for my writing, no excitement about what the future could be. I feel like I’m drifting through some sort of of alternate reality dream space while mechanically performing my every-day tasks.
Maybe that’s how the entirety of the last year (well since March) has gone, and I just didn’t really acknowledge it until now. I mean I knew the last year was bizarre, but somewhere in my mind, even though I know on an intellectual level that a new year doesn’t mean anything to the cosmos, I was still expecting something to have changed? Something to have shifted? Something to have settled? That there would be something to latch onto. And there isn’t. The agreement reality of the country that surrounds and informs my existence is coming apart at the seams.
My faith in the general goodness of humanity was cracked last year, and that rift continues to grow. I don’t believe that there is no goodness in people but, well, this post sums it up surprisingly accurately.
I look at everyone in my life fundamentally differently now. I believed for a long time time that people are born good, and they are, only now I realize that this world whispers lies, tiny lies over and over again. And some people look at those lies and they question them and search for the truth that will make the world better for all. And other people look at those lies and make them their world, so when they search for truth, the truth is grown from those lies, and they become so convinced of their own rightness that nothing else matters.
