Lately I find I'm hanging in the tension between two distinct states of being. On one hand, life feels like always, calm and fine and even serene. On the other hand, I feel a constant tension and anxiety about the virus, outrage at the Republican party, and fearful of the contentiousness and perhaps violence which I'm afraid is going to accompany the upcoming Presidential election. Trump is sure to be a bully to the end. He will not be gracious; he will go down (and surely, oh please oh please, he will go down) fighting and fighting ugly.
I can't help but wonder: will he, to the end of his days, always have people around him who bolster and uphold him, or will he finally exhaust and disgust everybody and finally be alone? And even then, will he resist learning anything at all about his own lack of humanity? What a small, terrified man he must be. Sometime early on, he was terribly, terribly wounded, and it squashed the heart right out of him. I pity him if he were ever to consider, to truly look at, the kind of man he is and why so many people despise him so deeply. I can't wish him any worse punishment than that.
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