I’m not happy.

I’m not sad.

I’m not depressed or angry

Or anything of the sort.

I’m somewhere in the middle,

And that is the worst possible place one can be.

Because at any time you could fall or rise but you don’t know which.

Anything can happen.

The Middle is a place of anxiety.

And I watch around me and I see people hurt and angry and protesting and rioting and I feel that same pain as well only I don’t give a FUCK who won the election

Because I am walking in water and I can’t see whether the next step in front of me will lift me up

Or whether I will sink and be ripped away by the undertow.

But my Bible tells me to weep with those who weep and so I gather with people who I share little in common.

I am not oppressed.

I am privileged.

But I am hurting too, albeit for different reasons.

And so I join them in their quest for healing because God knows I need healing too and we all need healing and even if you are happy and gloating and winning the game you are still broken inside and need


So I celebrate with people who care who won the election.

Who are glad hearted and gloating and shouting to be heard over the sound of Molotov cocktails and tear gas grenades.

Because they give a FUCK and are laughing

And oh how I long to give a fuck too.

But I am somewhere in between and I don’t care.

I am more concerned about what the next step may look like.

Because when you are in the middle…

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