I feel like I just got over a long bought of ammonia.
Or at the very least bleach.
It feels like I was sick from drinking too much cool-aid.
I feel like I just voided myself.
I am not yet well emotionally, but the sun has come out.
I feel weak from four years of food poisoning. Four years of instability. Four years of wondering if a shock wave followed by severe edema and vomiting would make me and all around me statistics in a dusty book about nuclear war.
I see light and I rejoice, but after all but loosing the ability to breath, it takes a while for lungs to recover. I still fear that the zombies will come back in force. I see a few maskless zombies, with their eyes glazed over as they shamble through the grocery store. I know the zombie holocaust is still here, but for a moment, I feel like it has been beaten back.
I rejoice, but I still fear. Some of you may not feel my fear but then, Cruz is not your representative. When Cruz speaks for me in my gerrymandered place, he does not speak in my voice. When I hear him, I know the zombies are still there ready to attack anyone who shows that they have brains or mortal compassion.
So metaphorically, I can now rise from my sick bed, but my windows will stay boarded for a little while longer.
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