A Future Unwritten
I bead of sweat trickles down my brow, a testament to my anxiety as I refresh the browser displaying the live polls.
I strive to hold on to my calm, desperately clinging to composure amid the storm of uncertainty.
Surely, he won’t be elected.
Our country is smarter than that.
I close my laptop and turn to the TV, desperate for an escape from reality.
My heart thuds rapidly in my chest as I watch the Office, each scene mere background noise to the chaos swirling in my mind, my thoughts consumed by the polls.
I flick the TV off and check the polls once more.
He is winning.
How is that possible? This must be inaccurate.
I hit refresh on my browser, desperate for a different outcome.
I refresh again.
And again.
Finally, the numbers shift before my eyes.
Harris stays frozen while Trump surges forward with an unsettling gain of 20.
“Don’t panic” I urge myself mentally.
Surely, he won’t be elected.
Our country is smarter than that.
The hour grows late and my heart races with an overwhelming sense of dread.
I refuse to lose hope.
Not now. Not yet.
With a heavy sigh and bloodshot eyes, I sink into my bed, letting my sheets engulf me whole.
Again, those haunting polls invade my mind, relentless and tormenting.
My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone.
I hesitate.
Surely, he won’t be elected.
Our country is smarter than that.
I shut my eyes once more and sleep takes me.
This is no soothing slumber.
I dream of a time where women are stripped of their autonomy, robbed of the right to govern their own bodies.
I dream of a time where marriage is confined only to the union of a man and a woman, shutting out all who dare to love beyond those limits.
I dream of a time where transgender individuals are discriminated against and unable to access the critical healthcare they deserve.
I dream of a time where rape is reduced to a mere whisper, brushed aside as an unfortunate reality rather than a life-altering violation that demands our outrage and action.
I dream of a hierarchy that places white men on a pedestal, casting the rest of us into the depths of insignificance, forcing us to suffer in silence.
I wake drenched in a cold sweat, my fists clenched and my nails digging into the tender flesh of my palms.
“Don’t panic” I urge myself mentally.
It was just a nightmare.
Surely, he won’t be elected.
Our country is smarter than that.
I drift back into an uneasy sleep and wake in the morning to the melancholic sound of rain tapping on my windowsill.
I lie there, motionless, my gaze fixed on the dark ceiling above me.
Shouldn’t there be a distant symphony of cheers? The sound of celebration and joy? The melody of birds chirping gleefully as the morning sun peeks through my blinds?
No, it is hauntingly quiet.
A silence that wraps around me like a shroud.
No, the world is gray outside, and the rain cascades down, mirroring the tears that are now freely flowing down my cheeks.
I don’t have to look at my phone. I feel it in my bones, a chilling certainty of what is to come.
He was elected.
Our country was not smart enough.
-Kenna p.
