Pay rent or symbolically protest?
Speak the truth, and possibly lose work, or stay quiet and keep your job?

I cried today during my gig. Only for a little bit. Only for a moment.
Lyrics to “One Last Time” from Hamilton came to mind:
“Teach them how to say goodbye.”
I know it’s been eight years, but it’s still too soon.

What are we going to say to our children when they ask about this time?
How will history recall this election and the soon-to-be presidency?

I am slammed with work, exhausted, sleep deprived, and achy.
My feet throb every day as I trudge through 8, 10, 12 hours of physical labor.
I have to setup for parties for people I abhor.
But I’ll be able to pay my bills this month free of the fear of my credit score dropping again.

I know my goals, know I’m working towards them.
Just a little bit farther. Just a little bit longer. A few more things left to do.
My path is a crooked twisting road; today it was dark and foreboding.

Categorised as: Random

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