Unhelpful

I am trying my best to distract myself from the fear that the world is closing in on me.

But then when I turn away from that fear to look at the world outside of me, another fear emerges that the world is closing in on itself.

Most of this is at least partially caused by Trump.

I’m exhausted thinking about him. Exhausted from the dread he instills.

Usually by 3:00 in the afternoon, I am completely exhausted. And I attempt a nap, but then notice that my heart beats faster and my thoughts wander back to Trump.

And then I focus on my breast and try to stay focused to count to 100 inhalations and exhalations. But I usually lose count after 3. So I start over again and I might make it to 7. But that’s about it.

And then there’s my age which is closer to 100 than to 7. And my fear that he will outlive me. That he will be the last president of my lifetime.

And then I start to think about his destruction of the environment. And then the perverse thought…. why does the doom of the Earth bother me so much when I won’t be around because Trump will have already killed me?

Which leads to pity for the next generation, a pity which is completely unhelpful for anybody.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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