Space junk, stray bullets, and projected psychoses, what goes up must come down. That’s not the sky falling, but it might as well be.
The realization of guilt or the materialization of recourse, where feelings, logic, and reality intersect and disagree, you’ll find sadness and anger. In this place, only one emotion truly exists, the other is a fabricated means of self-defense and only begets more of the other. We are a terrified nation of helpless and hopeless. We are anesthetized, or we are outraged. We are all of these things, rightfully so, but cannot accept our own fault in it. The product of our fear, despair, and self-loathing we’ve redirected, turned it into friendly fire. We’ve aimed our anger straight up into the air, and our bodies wait to faithfully collect the falling stray bullets.