🖤 The Nation Fell Quietly, Like Rot Beneath the Floorboards
Of all the things I never expected to survive, it wasn’t a car crash or a cancer scare.
It wasn’t heartbreak or hardship or the sharp, grinding ache of poverty.
It was this.
The slow, crumbling collapse of a nation that once dressed itself in glory.
Not with fireworks and fanfare, but with muffled headlines and legal technicalities. With court decisions cloaked in rhetoric and backroom deals inked in blood.
A republic doesn’t need to burn to fall—it just needs to forget its own mythology.
And baby, we are deep in the forgetting.
For those of us surviving in the in-between
I live in the liminal—between broke and broken, between surviving and spiraling. I don’t have a safety net or a golden parachute woven from lobbyist silk.
I have duct tape, recycled spells, and the unshakeable will of a witch who’s been on the brink too many times to flinch.
So when today’s news broke, I didn’t gasp. I didn’t scream.
I just exhaled—quiet and guttural. The kind of sound you make when the wolves finally reach the door you’ve been too tired to barricade.
It wasn’t a surprise. But damn, it was still a wound.
Hug your children tighter tonight
Not because the monster is coming.
But because it already lives here—in our institutions, our screens, our normalized numbness.
Because somewhere in the fine print of our rights, someone scribbled “unless inconvenient” and passed it off as law.
We used to watch dystopias on screen, nestled in popcorn and disbelief. Now we scroll through them.
We swipe past them.
We meme our misery just to survive it.
But don’t let anyone tell you this is normal.
It’s not.
It’s just happening—and we’re exhausted.
Final thoughts from the shadow
I don’t have a neat conclusion. No rally cry. No hopeful crescendo to leave you uplifted.
All I have is this truth:
The nation didn’t fall with a bang.
It sank like rot beneath the floorboards—silent, steady, and stinking of betrayal.
And some of us are still standing in the wreckage,
lighting candles with shaking hands,
and whispering to the dark:
Not like this. Not again. Not without a fight.
🗣️ Don’t Go Quietly. Don’t Go Alone.
If you’re angry—good.
If you’re heartbroken—that means you still care.
And if you’re scared? You’re not the only one. But fear is fuel when we use it right.
Speak up. Speak out. Speak loudly.
Even if your voice trembles. Even if they tell you it’s hopeless. Especially when they hope you’ll stay silent.
This isn’t the time to shrink.
It’s the time to become unbearable to the systems that want us docile.
Don’t let them normalize the nightmare.
Don’t let them legislate us into shadows.
We don’t go down without a fight—
because some of us were born of rebellion.
And we don’t burn out…
We ignite.
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