Because it might be true.
TV.
Radio.
Internet.
Even phone and word of mouth.
And letters in the mail. And billboards and posters and flyers and leaflets.
Even memory which remembers.
I’m afraid of being afraid. It does bad things to me. It overwhelms my ability to do anything at all.
I want lovely words. Utopia. That’s lovely.
Now they’ve put Utopia on the back burner or the back shelf. They’ve changed the spelling to what they’re selling. Dystopia.
I don’t like that.
I don’t like feeling helpless.
I can’t stop watching movies, but they come in too many variations. There are coms and romcoms and thrillers and chillers and docudramas and epic pics. Some turn out well and happy and safe and make me cry for joy. Too often they don’t let me believe them.
Then there are all those negative movies that don’t turn out happy and make me cry. They take away my hope and don’t replace it.
It’s not enough to know and realize what they’re doing.
The Blob has landed and is eating the planet. Even teenagers can’t stop it.

What to do? What to do?
The Blobbers are not here to cause paranoia, they’re here to feed it, inject it, spread it like a plague.
I can’t even find rest in sleep.
I try to convince myself.
I cling to my illusions, the what ifs.
If my little voice can stir the air, and other little voices too, can we? Can we? Rise to hurricane and blow the bad wolf from the door?
We’re all going backward down the Great Chain of Being. We’ve left the upper reaches, no more thinking, only partial movement, going below just moving and growing, below just being. It’s evolution backward, we haven’t climbed out of the depths, we’ve passed below the combination of atoms into molecules to compounds to organics, we’re smaller than the atom or its components. We’re trembling on the brink of nonexistence.
We used to be so smug that we were smart. We could learn things and do things. We decided that bacteria are alive. Viruses not. We know both can kill. How smart is that?
Every day of our lives brings more bad news.
“We’ve got your back.” Who’s got my front?
People say, “Don’t tell me when it’s over. I don’t wanna know. I wanna live as if I’ll live forever.”
I lift my little voice.
Add yours.