I think we can all agree that 2020 and its preceding years have been, for lack of a better word, one of the craziest times in recent history. With respect to political division and civil unrest things have been exponentially ramping up to some unforeseeable inevitable end. And in a scenario such as this, the people forced to ride along have a lot to say. In our uber-digital age news outlets, online videos, and social media are the centrifuges for the opinions and thoughts of the masses.
But the number one thing that I feel and the thing that permeates my being at all times is frustration.
I find that more often I am not spouting profound poignant remarks on the political state or discussing the future with well thought out arguments but wallowing in a cocoon of frustration and worry. I have nothing interesting to say or write about. No cause to proliferate. No ideas to put forth. No ideologies to spread .All I have is frustration
Frustration with the world. With the people. With myself. It's totally arresting and nothing at all at all times and never not there.
I find it frustrating that our leaders have done nothing to serve their people.
I find it frustrating that the people I know aren't chewing off their fingers in worry for the future.
I find it frustrating that my future is laden with worry and anxiety and not hope and optimism.
I find it frustrating that I'm not excited to grow older
I find it frustrating that the future I’m intended to inhabit has been tainted by those that came before me.
Even my mother, one of the most cheerful and pure people I know, is not saved from the wrath of this blind frustration. The other day she and I were on our way home from the ice cream store when the dreaded topic of politics came up in conversation. I tend to keep my beliefs to myself only in pursuit of the least conflict as possible, but it was on this day that my exact thoughts were voiced without me even having to open my mouth.
"I’ve just lost all hope", she said. "The entire thing needs to be thrown away, I just have nothing left to give for this system. Nothing."
Never in my entire life would I have imagined my mother, the guiding force in my development and introduction into the real world, to express such despair and match up so well to my black tumor of cynicism and pessimism that is usually combated by her outlook on life. I could live with the world on fire and I could live with all of the dreadful atrocities that the news throws upon us at the dawn of each and every frustration filled day but to see my mother, once so bright and hopeful, reduced to a shadow of herself. That’s when I truly broke, when I realized the true piercing reality of the situation, and the world I was soon to be thrust into.
Now In speeches such as this I’m supposed to advocate for some idea or solution to an issue
But I truly cannot think of any productive action to combat this overwhelming sensation of frustration. Simply put, I’m totally and completely hopeless.
I’m left with nothing save one question.
When will it end?
When will something give?
When will the pot stop boiling?
When will the volcano burst?
When will the storm clouds explode and rain down a cleansing flood on this scarred earth
All I have left is this question.
When will the frustration end?