The Future

I have a hard time picturing much of a future.

 

I envy my friends who seem able to see a way out, who can picture a time when life goes back to normal.

 

I can’t.

I can’t picture myself living past 40, either.  I try to imagine the future and all I see are dead ends, or the inevitable tragedy brought on by a handful of powerful people with no restraint.

There will be another world war, or perhaps another civil war, I keep thinking.  Once again I’ll spend months in a dirty hole waiting to die.  Once again I’ll come back to places I once knew and haunt them like a revenant.  That is, if there’s a world to come back to next time.  With nuclear weapons in the equation, I kind of doubt it.

Generally, I live in a constant state of anguish because I honestly have come to the conclusion that the world has learned nothing in the last century.  And as before- as ever- it will be us innocents who suffer the worst.

I only wish the whole world could experience what I did.  I wish they could remember what it was like to be doomed through no fault of their own, then snap out of their backward ways and live for peace like I did.

But I would starve living on these wishes, and there is no action to fix the problem.

Despair.  I know such profound despair.

 

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