It is January 26, 2025. I am 38 years old. I’m standing in line to panic-buy coffee before new tariffs. Six days ago, a billionaire did a Nazi salute at Trump’s second inauguration. They’re shipping migrants out of the country by military airlift. I feel grateful I don’t have much life ahead of me. - ThreadSky

mwriston.bsky.social • 27 days ago

It is January 26, 2025. I am 38 years old. I’m standing in line to panic-buy coffee before new tariffs. Six days ago, a billionaire did a Nazi salute at Trump’s second inauguration. They’re shipping migrants out of the country by military airlift. I feel grateful I don’t have much life ahead of me.

Comments

mwriston.bsky.social•27 days ago

It is March 15, 2024. I am 37 years old. My therapist says doomscrolling isn’t helping my depression. My neighbor lost his life savings trading options on Robinhood. At night, the screams fill my dreams. I scroll Instagram self care Reels until the battery dies.

mwriston.bsky.social•27 days ago

It is January 6, 2021. I am 34 years old. I’m in the Pentagon when the mob storms the Capitol. They tell us to leave. I watch a Confederate flag pass through Statuary Hall on the display wall. My son texts, “Are we going to war?”

mwriston.bsky.social•27 days ago

It is November 20, 2020. I am 34 years old. The agent says rates have never been lower. I’ll never get a house this cheap. We both avoid saying it’s because a half million of our countrymen are dead. I sign the papers.

mwriston.bsky.social•27 days ago

It is March 13, 2020. I am 33 years old. I get a phone call not to come to work today. "Two weeks to flatten the curve," they say. I watch people fight over toilet paper. My daughter asks when she can hug grandma again. I make bread and pretend it’s fun.

mwriston.bsky.social•27 days ago

It is November 28, 2019. I am 32 years old. Black Friday therapy app deals flood my inbox. Tent cities grow under the highway while Christmas music plays on the radio. I donate to a food bank and feel nothing.

mwriston.bsky.social•27 days ago

It is June 8, 2019. I am 32 years old. My high school reunion happens on Facebook. We post curated photos, lie about our lives, and ignore the classmates lost to opioids. I message my childhood best friend and we both agree we should meet up sometime soon.