I’m losing my will to fight. You’re losing your will to fight. In the last few weeks, you’ve been nothing but despair. I am trying to hold it together so I can keep up the fight. But it’s been getting harder. All the levity has been lost. I guess I got more levity from you than I realized. I don’t know how I became so dependent on you. Isolation has become the norm for us, I guess. But right now, all I know is that I can’t do this without you. You’ve gotta stay strong, and stay light. So that I can stay strong, and stay light.
Yes, you. The faceless mass.
Nah, not only am I not “losing my will to fight,” I’m having a great time. I don’t take anything online seriously.
Lemmy is NOT real life. It’s an echo-chamber full of people bitching and moaning about the world ending who just love to doomscroll, and then brag about what meds they are taking to cope. It’s fucking weird.
Meanwhile in real life in my neighborhood here in the US, people are visiting parks, flying kites with kids, taking walks with their dogs. I see kids riding their bikes to get ice cream. I hear kids on the playground nearby playing tag and laughing. Guy across the street is shooting the shit with his friends and having a beer. They invited me over for a bbq.
But according to Lemmy we’re all doomed and about to be marched into deathcamps.
Not gonna happen.
World’s not gonna end Lemmy. I promise.
Found the Trumper. I don’t know what fantasy you’re living in, but it’s definitely not America.
I’m not a Trumper. I didn’t vote for Trump. I actually voted socialist party, friend.
And yep, I live here in America. Not fantasy at all. I described what was happening outside in my view right as I was writing it.