Cliff Notes for a Cliffhanger

The air feels charged tonight—like the restless hum before a thunderstorm, heavy and unspoken. It presses against my skin, not violent but insistent, demanding acknowledgment. Everything feels on the edge of something—change, collapse, renewal. Or maybe all three at once. It’s a strange feeling, being so small in a world that seems to teeter on its axis.

I’ve been watching the news, trying to piece together the state of things. The government teeters on the brink of another shutdown, while leaders argue over who’s to blame for a growing mountain of crises: multiple climate disasters, a spiraling national debt, and a healthcare system that feels more fragile by the day. The world watches us, not with the awe I once believed they held, but with something more like pity—or maybe quiet derision. Are we still the beacon we claim to be, or have we become the cautionary tale?

The news of who has been chosen as our next leader has left me reeling. Disbelief hangs heavy, not just in my mind but in the conversations I hear from friends and strangers alike. How could someone like this—someone who has no respect for our constitution, a 34-count convicted felon, a rapist, a malignant narcissist, a grifter, a wanna-be dictator—be handed the keys to our everything? A man whose track record is littered with bankruptcies, dubious business deals, and a history of prioritizing personal gain over public good. He seems more interested in building his brand than the country. It’s hard to imagine a person so preoccupied with their own self-image leading us into anything but chaos.

It’s not just our internal chaos that worries me. Our treatment of other nations has reached new levels of embarrassment. In recent days, the president-elect has floated the idea of Canada becoming the 51st state, as though they would willingly trade their sovereignty for our dysfunction. He’s repeatedly referred to their prime minister as “Governor Trudeau,” reducing an esteemed leader to the role of a state official. I imagine Canadians rolling their eyes, wondering how we’ve fallen so far.

And then there’s Greenland. A few years ago, the idea of buying Greenland was floated as if its citizens, proud and independent under Denmark’s umbrella, were merely bargaining chips. Now, the president-elect has revived the idea, doubling down on the absurdity and leaving our allies baffled. It’s the same arrogance that leads to comments like suggesting Panama “give back” the canal or that the Gulf of Mexico should be renamed “The Gulf of America.” These statements aren’t just ignorant; they’re deeply insulting to nations that have long been our partners, nations that value their independence as fiercely as we claim to value ours.

Across the globe, the laughter at our expense grows louder. Allies question our stability, our reliability.

At home, the cracks in our foundation grow wider. Gun violence is now so routine that its absence feels stranger than its presence. Another mass shooting made headlines today—just a few states away. And still, nothing changes. I wonder what other countries think when they see our headlines. Do they shake their heads in disbelief at our tolerance for tragedy? Do they shrug, having grown used to the madness we’ve come to accept? Maybe they just grab the popcorn.

Next week looms large—what will we lose next? The storm feels closer now, the wind already pulling at the edges of what we’ve built. I can’t shake the sense that we’ve handed the reins to someone who may steer us directly off a cliff.

I want to believe in resilience. I want to believe we can still make a turn for the better. But tonight, I feel the weight of doubt. What if this is how it all unravels?