Writing from the Edge of the Map

Dispatches from a resistance running on fumes

Photo by Stefan Maass on Unsplash

Lately, I’ve been feeling like a race car at a pit stop—tires rotated, just enough fuel poured in to get through a few more laps before sputtering out again. That’s what this political cycle has felt like. Not a full refueling. Not a real reset. Just enough to keep us moving until the next emergency.

And it’s exhausting.

The most draining part isn’t just the policies, the headlines, the blatant erosion of what’s left of “normal.” It’s the question that keeps echoing in my mind: Why aren’t more people outraged? And before you tell me “plenty of people are,” maybe the better question is—why aren’t the right people outraged? The ones with the leverage, the voice, the vote, the power?

Because if they were, wouldn’t we see it by now? Wouldn’t we see some bounce back? Some corrective flow? Some sign that the system hasn’t completely flatlined?

But it’s not correcting itself. It’s being held together by bubblegum, and instead of asking why the engine is failing,…