Some Nights You Don’t Sleep

I didn’t sleep well last night. It took an eternity to finally drift off, and when I did, it was the kind of sleep that’s more like a battleground, those brief, jarring interludes of unconsciousness punctuated by violent jolts, as if my body was trying to escape the weight of the world. And why shouldn’t it? Yesterday, in Minneapolis, something ugly happened, something that shook whatever fragile semblance of normalcy we’ve been clinging to. The flood of real-time lies from the federal government, each one spewing forth like a script from a dystopian film, except this is no fiction. And as it should, it hit hard, evoked a tidal wave of emotion.

For me, that emotion was anger. That old, reliable standby. Some people turn to grief or despair, others to confusion. Me? I get angry. Yesterday, it was earned. It was the kind of anger that makes your skin feel too tight, your thoughts too scattered. As I scrolled through social media, it was as though the entire world had started screaming in unison…“This isn’t supposed to happen,” “This is illegal,” “They broke the law.”

And I get it, I do. I understand why people are clinging to these words. For decades, we’ve built our lives on this unspoken agreement, fragile as hell, but there nonetheless, that there are things we don’t do, things that are wrong. It was a naïve faith that we lived in a country where basic rights mattered, where we were safe because the rules, however flawed, were at least supposed to be followed. But it turns out, we were wrong. All of us. It was all just a comforting little lie we told ourselves. A collective delusion. The cracks in the walls were always there, and some of us saw them, shouted about them, even, but yesterday… yesterday the walls finally started crumbling.

And now? The truth is out in the open. Too many people have known it for far too long, but now it’s undeniable. Yesterday wasn’t the first time the system failed us, but it was one of those moments where the sheer weight of it all makes you realize that this broken machine, this grand charade, isn’t just broken, it’s a wreck. How many times have we missed the chance to wake up to what’s been happening? How many times has the bell tolled and we all just kept on snoozing, believing the lies because, let’s be real, it was easier than facing the truth?

And yet, here we are. The list of things that should never have happened but did? It’s long, my friends. Endless. And now, we’re left to wonder, will this add to the catalog of injustices, or will something finally shift? Will there be real change? Will we take to the streets, the ballot boxes, the courtrooms? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m not the optimist in the room. In fact, I’m the one who’s been sitting in the corner, sipping whiskey and muttering about how humanity always finds a way to disappoint.

But even in my cynicism, even when the weight of the world is pressing down and the rage keeps me up at night, there’s a small, stubborn ember of hope still smoldering in me. It flickers. It’s weak. But it’s still there. And that, I suppose, is what keeps us going, hope, however tattered, and anger, however messy. Anger, that primal force that demands release, that needs to be channeled somewhere before it burns us all to the ground.

The trouble is, most of us have no idea how to channel it. Where do we point this fire? Who do we scream at when the whole damn system is on fire? I wish I had answers. I wish I knew where to direct it, where to throw that punch, where to burn the lies to the ground. But the truth is, I don’t. And maybe that’s the part of the chaos we’re all living in. We can see the cracks, we can feel the heat, but damn if we don’t feel just as lost as the rest of the world.

All I know is this, anger, hope, and a whole lot of uncertainty. That’s what I’m holding on to. And if there’s one thing that’ll get us through this, it’s the same thing that’s always gotten us through: a cocktail of bitterness, stubbornness, and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest thread of redemption. Here’s to hoping we find it before the night gets any darker.