I want to get my hands on cyanide before things worsen, but the drive to survive is stronger than any inclination. Some may perceive this feeling as hope, and maybe there are elements of hopefulness, but I don't think I could really kill myself unless there is no one else to assist with survival.

We have no idea how bad things will get and how we'll react, but survival mode is a force that will drive us to keep going, and we can't ignore its power. So, it's tough to predict if we'll fly or fight, and I learned my impulse is to fight but to what extent?

It's difficult to combat the sadness, but beauty and love underpin it, and nature offers daily delights. So, I find a delight a day to get through the dystopic hell, and sometimes, it's as easy as watching bees collect pollen and nectar or appreciating my dogs' carefreeness.

xo