I'm fairly certain my capacity for empathy has been permanently damaged by the events of this year.

I get too much bone deep joy from verbally abusing the religious, its a near narcotic sensation of pleasure. Feels like fighting back against those who have prevented me and the dead from accessing our Healthcare.

I really feel like I'm losing it slowly. I see the faces of people whove died in my sleep, I see them when I close my eyes. I think all the time about a young father of three who died of Covid back in April. Hw was a bus driver and made multiple public outcries for protections for city employees and Essential workers. I hear the pain and complete grief of a mother who lost her baby daughter because they couldn't keep their regular appointments to keep her baby healthy.

Who remembers these poverty-stricken dead? What use is their pain and suffering if it does not galvanize those who bear witness to help? What justice do they receive while theives and villains loot our public institutions in the open?

I tell my therapist, I tell my family doc. We just keep adding more plastic and pharmaceuticals to my diet.

We are still waiting for the owners of the home we bought to move out. The way the deal was structured from our initial offer they get 14 days occupancy free and then I become a landlord with exorbitant rates.

I just wish I could dump boxes in the garage of the new place. The stack of boxes in my living room is growing precariously tall.