I used to be a lot angrier, I think. I’ve felt myself losing my anger slowly after around 30 years old, but during the pandemic, it’s been almost gone. I think maybe that’s because the current situation is so bad, it’s beyond hope and thus, not worth caring enough to be angry about. A global pandemic that is worsened by avid deniers, a crazy asshole in the White House and a huge portion of the country that idolizes him, loss of job/career, a collapsed economy, a civil rights movement that’s seemingly exponentially escalating in extremes, a population so aware of the collective mindfuck that’s currently happening that even the Sunday comics are dour… And all this while I’m basically locked in my house 99% of the time. There is too much shit going on right now that, to write it all out would detract from the focus of this piece. The point is that I feel like I’m so launched into outer-space, just struggling to grasp my current reality, that I have nothing to be angry or intense about. The idea of “progress” even seems foreign in this new reality, and ambition usually isn’t too far from anger. I’m just swimming around this fishbowl, every day is more or less the same. Life is currently some degree of anxiety, and then trying to manage that anxiety with some degree of effectiveness. Some days are better than others. But anger? At what? At the president? At his supporters? At capitalism? At white people? At injustice in general? At politicians? At ourselves? It’s just too fucked to be worth getting mad at. I have my bubble, and I hate it, but it’s all I have, and I love it. It sucks. And there’s no end in sight. Maybe, whenever that day comes, I’ll look around that new world and find something to be angry about.
