(Originally published May 18, 2019)
I’m not going to sugar-coat it. I’m angry. I’m angry about a lot of things these days. It’s a low-level burn that simmers under the surface, boiling over into a rage when the next new terrible thing happens.
A lot of these things I’m angry about are vastly out of my control (*pauses to glare at US politics*). It’s so easy to feel helpless. I can do a little, but it doesn’t feel like much.
So what else is there? What else can I do? I write. I know it won’t change the world, but it helps.
I write tragedy to process grief. I write about equality to see a better world than the one that exists. I write about people overcoming fears and triumphing against evil. I write about hope.
I write about a day when I might not be so angry.
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