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 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.