Friday is looming

Woke up this morning with that same heavy feeling that’s been hanging around since the election. It’s like the air is thicker, harder to breathe, as if the weight of everything happening in the world is pressing down all at once. Friday is looming over us now—the day that might mark the last chance for any legal actions if credible election interference has been found. I don’t know whether to hope or to brace for impact.

I keep flipping back to how crushed I felt on election night. It wasn’t just sadness; it was like someone had yanked the floor out from under me and stepped on my neck. Now, every headline feels like a countdown. I know better than to hope too much, but I can’t help it—it flickers there, even if only for a moment. Hope that someone in the shrinking plank of the current administration will stand up and boldly say, “This isn’t right.” That all of this unraveling, this chaos, can be stopped before it dismantles everything so many of us have fought for, dreamed of, and depended upon.

I think about what “we the people” means, and I can’t help but feel disillusioned. It feels like those words, so full of promise, are being chipped away—bit by bit—until they’re barely a whisper. It’s terrifying to think about what could happen if our social systems are gutted. It’s not just politics; it’s survival for so many. For my sister and for mom. The government who is supposed to protect us is being "tried on" by those who seem to be focused on retribution, greed and on protecting their power.

This week, I’ve been trying to distract myself with little things—reading old diary entries, directing AI to draw Christmas cards, even doom-scrolling just for the irony of it. But the truth is, I’m scared. Scared for what the next four years might hold. Scared for people like me, for the communities that are already so vulnerable. And underneath all that fear, there’s anger—at the “orange man” and his kind, at the ones who enable him, at their joy in cruelty.

But still, there’s that little flicker of hope. Maybe it’s naïve, but maybe Friday--December 20th--could bring something—some truth, some justice, some glimmer of a chance to stop this runaway train before it’s too late. If nothing else, it reminds me that I still care, that I still believe in the promise of our nation's collective dream.

We’ll see. Maybe nothing will happen, The world turns a cold shoulder my way.