Aftermath
There’s been a consistent and very hard to describe feeling in recent years, since 2020 to be exact, that nothing is quite right, even when it looks right. Even when things appear “normal—” nothing is. Only the surface is normal. Beneath, there is something way off.
Like something was killed, but nobody can say it. (Looks like I just did.)
What is it?
We’re all in a waiting room, waiting for this very long funeral of the spirit to be over, for things to feel like they used to.
And we try, and try.
In my case, I take hundreds of pictures. I photograph a beautiful world. I plan to one day lay them all out, make a case that things are good. I have all the evidence.
“We’re going to be ok.”
But the shock of it all, the repeated shocks, the body blows that never ceased, and the perfectly assured absence of empathy—it feels like they killed our mother.
The spirit of the mother—the spirit of hope.
I’ll never understand how they did whatever it was they did.
At least we have each other.
"There’s been a consistent and very hard to describe feeling in recent years, since 2020 to be exact, that nothing is quite right, even when it looks right. Even when things appear “normal—'nothing is. Only the surface is normal. Beneath, there is something way off.'
I feel this deeply every day.
I think it's the "Great Awakening" there's truth, and then there's lies, and when you realize that you have been lied to your whole life you can never look at things the same way. Many people get mad if you point out the lies, they don't want to wake up. They stop talking to anyone that disagrees with the propaganda because to them it's a convenient truth, and anyone that challenges the narrative they are being fed is the enemy.