From the desk of: I.B. Ess



From the desk of:

I.B. Ess

I think we all expect one another to not act solely in our own self-interests all of the time, but that’s just not realistic.

After the depression of winter lifts and the mania of spring hits, summer speeds by all too quickly. Does time move faster as you age? Does everyone feel this impending sense that the world is ending (the way that animals can sense earthquakes)? That our way of life is changing? That the nation as we thought we knew it is gone? There’s no going back. The promises we were given crumble into dust. You never wanted power, you just wanted to sit in the grass and pick clover flowers to make into crowns, and collect earthworms for no discernible reason.

Why do people act out of spite? Complete strangers acting terrible towards one another. Can they even control themselves? Do they possess the power of critical thinking and emotional intelligence? You want to believe in something like karma, justice of some kind, so that they face consequence of action. You want to believe, but the truth is that your tormentors grow up to become oligarchs, and even if there was “punishment” what good would it serve? What lesson would be learned by the unreceptive/ignorant? Existing is punishment enough maybe. Everyone suffers. You reason that their father probably isn’t a good person, or that their mother probably neglected them, but you have no way of knowing and explaining it away changes the focus. Anyway, who am I to judge/jury/executioner? 

You got hurt & will continue to experience hurt. Most pain is temporary (even chronic pain changes),  but when the situation damages hope, it’s hard to keep up the good fight.

This is sure to be another record breaking summer. Birds dropping from the sky. Crops failing. More supply chain issues. Weakened immune systems fighting a new onslaught of pestilence. Welcome to the new normal, an ever expanding hellscape. wE LivE iN UnPrEceDentEd TimEs.

It’s hard to love thy neighbor when they spit in your face and then lie about it.

I used to be smarter. 
That’s half true. I was sort of smart, but I had to work so hard for it. It wasn’t something I could maintain once I joined the workforce. Once I got a smart phone. Once I did drugs (okay, more than once). I don’t really read books anymore. Now microplastics in my bloodstream seep into my meninges. The doom creeps closer. Cue operatic crescendo.