Embed Notice

The shock this time is different. In 2016, I walked around in a fog for a week—getting used to the reality of an inconceivable outcome and knowing it’d be awful without knowing exactly how. Constant doomscrolling.

This time, it’s understanding everything—in all its multifarious implications—all too well. And I’m feeling dread, physically, at the cellular level. Barely able to open this app or look at headlines.

Tomorrow’s drink/dinner plans will be the first I’ve spoken about what happened.