The Night Before What Feels Like the End of the World

Call me dramatic, sure. But I’m worried about having my rights taken away. Even if you’re a straight, white, Christian in the far-right Republican mold, even if his policies won’t affect you directly, are you okay with what Trump plans to do to your friends and neighbors? With what’s been happening to women in red states? How can you really love thy neighbor, and be okay with this?

There are times that require a reasonable, rational, distant approach. But the stakes feel so supremely high that I can’t be objective. It’s almost insane to be objective about this, honestly. I’d rather be honest, right now. And right now, I’m pissed.

I am pissed that American is this close to having a fascist in office. I am pissed that a majority of Americans could be okay enough with Trump’s repeated criminal activity to award him commander-in-chief. Does this mean we haven’t learned anything from World Wars I and II? Does this mean we’re okay with criminality by proxy? Are we a nation of criminals?

It’s times like this this when I think, “fuck it.” How can I make art? A screenplay isn’t going to stop what’s happening. But I just remembered that I have a friend who’s going to the movies tomorrow while she’s waiting out the votes. Cinema is going to provide a positive, reassuring force for her and many other people tomorrow who are experiencing sheer anxiety and dread. That’s powerful. That matters.

I don’t know how I’m going to face humanity on Wednesday if he wins. Until then, I’m going to write.