maurauder

Hope.

Last night two of my best friends came over. Joe was my Political Science teacher last semester, and we became fast friends. Janet is his wife.

We three like to torture ourselves. We watch political documentaries, drink gin and tonics, and sink into despair together. Last night was "Outfoxed", followed by Noam Chomskys "Manufacturing Consent".

Hope is something that Janet and Joe have lost. These two have been through it before, been through it for years. They marched in the streets for civil rights, marched to end the Vietnam war, and watched the years pass as the people who had marched with them

bought homes.

and nice cars

got real jobs

and as soon as they had some money in the bank, they abandoned those values they had marched for. As the hippies became the yuppies and Janet and Joe watched the hope around them wither. Watched as Reagan destroyed our social programs, watched my generation grow up without caring, watched this administration systematically strip away our rights, our civil liberties, and our hope.

And so they have lost, they said to me last night. They have lost their hope.



This morning, brought breakfast in a greasy spoon diner. It was a different cast of characters, but the same conversation. Hope.

My roommate will be 33 years old in a week. He used to be an avid political activist. He worked for the local chapter of the democratic party, he worked on the campaigns of our local elected officials, he fought so hard every day for social change in our community and our world.

He doesnt do that anymore. This election has left him numb and tuned out. He says he cant even read the newspaper anymore. He has lost his hope.

The boy who is sleeping on my couch, I dont remember his name. He says that we no longer live in a democracy. They steal our elections and they steal our taxes to fight their wars and create their weapons and the people have no say in any of it. He says the next 50 years are lost. He conceded, maybe one day the people will wake up and revolt. But not anytime soon. He plans to move to a quiet corner of the world and live his life in peace, not caring what goes on around him because he believes he has no control over it. He has lost his hope.



And me? I am ever the optimist. Last night and this morning, I am the voice of hope. I always find myself in this position, I am used to it and I am prepared with my battalion of rational thoughts and inspirational monologues. I argue for hope diligently and vehemently, but what they dont know is that Im not doing it for them. Im doing it for me. I spout these hollow empty words in a desperate attempt to convince myself.

Because Im clinging, just barely clinging. Or maybe Ive lost it already. Im trembling now, writing this through my tears and I cant even see the keyboard.

Because I live my little life as a worthless checklist of hope. I feebly check each box to be a better person, and add boxes faster than I can keep up with.

buy clothing made by union paid workers

only shop at local stores, not corporate chains

recycle

only flush when its brown

user less toilet paper, that dioxin used to bleach it white is an environmental nightmare

buy organic

boycott Nike

drive a fuel efficient car, and drive it less

paper over plastic

wash and reuse ziplock bags

The silly list goes on. And on. And on. And its impossible to live that way, too overwhelming to live that way, and what does it matter anyway, when everyone around me is consuming and wasting without care or consideration of what theyre doing. Im a drop in the fucking bucket, when even those who used to care have lost all hope.

I cling to hope fiercely, desperately. As long as there are humans suffering I must retain this thing called hope. I cannot give up I cannot give up I cannot give up. The day I lose my hope is the day I slit my wrists.

So I cling and I scramble and it all seems so fucking meaningless. Leaves me hollow and heartless and screaming inside. I want to abandon this life. Here in this beautiful town in this beautiful house in this beautiful college filling my beautiful brain. I want to drop it all right now, end it all right now. Go to DC right now and curl up on the steps of the White House. I want to pound my fists into the steps of the White House and splatter my blood on the steps of the White House and scream until I wither away on the steps of the White House. Maybe people will pay attention if they find my carcass on the steps of the White House.


I am the voice that argues hope, and I dont believe one goddamn word of it.