A society can no longer be considered "civilized" when truth becomes inconvenient and facts are viewed as conspiracy. When "us and them" becomes the go-to mode, suddenly, no one's going to the middle anymore.
And, without that middle, there are no more conversations, only the echoing din of our own thoughts, costumed in the aping choir of the "us." I would no more wish a world of "us" upon others than I would wish to be a "them," especially if it meant losing the chance to meet each other.
So focused on the end, no one seems to notice that the body count is building.
Gone are the bridge builders, evaporated by the focused laser of cynical anger. Gone are the pure of spirit, muddied by invisible puppeteers whose hands move frantically to guide us. Even our dictionaries have changed, becoming lighter as words of compromise and community are nudged off the edges, deemed too quaint for such heady, important days.
Weeks away from the elections, I have never felt more used or less understood than I feel these days. I am on a speeding train not of my choosing, a faceless passenger whose voice is eaten up by the furious winds surrounding me.
I am tired of the machine. I yearn for the imperfection of human skin, a calloused hand to hold onto.
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