There is, apparently, no limitation on how disappointed you can be.
Similarly, there is also no limitation on how disappointing you can be.
When everyone’s healthcare is gone and your HSA with seven dollars in it is somehow empty despite the terrific boon of not being taxed, you can rest assured the amped up police force will give zero fucks when your bank sends them to drag you, emaciated and vomiting, from your house.
You won’t even be their first casuality that week. Or even that day.
You’ll get to tell yourself, “at least they had a reason for dragging me out.”
Everyone’s Aunt Kelleymary will tell you to just get over it and get along with people and one day you’ll snap and sing kumbaya at them but they won’t get it and they’ll take you seriously. They’ll pat your back and give you a mint from their purses.
You won’t remember why you enjoyed anything ever.
You’ll try to help others but the new 2017 Alternative Dictionary keeps telling you you’re doing it wrong.
You’ll be pervasively worried about bears, but none will attack you.
You’ll think it’s because you bought a gun like the responsible second grade teacher you are, but really it’s because the bear ate Aunt Kelleymary after she chucked a mint at him, and now he is too full to be bothered with you.
Nothing matters because Russia stages a quiet takeover and it involves you getting your face blown off.