Today we live in perpetual moments of melancholia that now define our modern lives. We do not live in a state of regret, but we live with an ongoing consciousness of things we have lost. How do we handle the recognition that, over the last four years, so many precious things have been forever stolen from us?
We have lost our sense of sanctuary. There are no safe places. We cannot find protection in schools, mosques, churches, or even with each other. We have lost our right to privacy.
We walk the streets and we are watched. We enter public buildings and we are required to provide ID just to remain in the building.
We surveil our neighbors. People different from us — in color and tone and financial stature — are our silent enemies and are ripe for the reporting. We have lost our joy to depravity.
We realize happiness is gone because to give yourself over to love and living and delight is to place down your guard and to relax your defenses.
Ordinary is now hard and cold and steely as a matter of everyday existence. We have lost our fear of terrorism because the terror is all around us.
We are monitored.
We are marked.
We are mocked.
We are terrorized by the news and by the gospels and by the medical and military professions sworn to protect and provide for us.
We — as our own tormentors — find terror encircling us now and seeping from every corner and lurking in every dark crevice and we have lost our innocence and our inscrutability in the realization that the real terrorists are us.