I have nothing much to say.
I have realized, for the first time really, really realized that this country no longer represents me–whatever will is being expressed, in a number of issues, is not only not mine, but in many cases runs deeply counter to things that I believe. Things that I cannot concieve of backing down on, things that, if I believed differently, I’d be somebody else entirely. And although this is the sort of thing that people have dealt with since there WERE nations, it’s new, in such measure, to me.
And I don’t know, yet, quite what to do about it.
It is not a feeling I am used to, and I do not know what to do with it yet. It’s lurking a little under my collarbone, and I think maybe I need time to stare at it for awhile. I don’t know yet what it will turn into. I’m not making any sweeping pronouncements of what I will and won’t do–it’s too soon, and too weird, and my natural ebulliance will surface soon enough in any case, although I think this particular feeling may be going to hunker down and stay for awhile, even so.
I’m done with politics for now. All that anger and disappointment, and in the end, nothing any of us did mattered. I feel more cut off from my country than ever before. I have nothing left to say. I’m just very tired of it all now.
You may notice, O reader, that I do not have not have comments turned on, for the first–and with any luck, the only–time since I started this journal a few years back. I think everything has already been said. There is nothing left to say, or there is too much to even know where to begin. It no longer matters what we say, and my guts are telling me that maybe it never mattered at all. So, enough. I’m tired.
Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.