Those for whom the world ended with Hillary Clinton’s loss of the electoral college must have led lives basking in sunshine and boundless opportunity. But how does it feel – as years go by – to shed illusion upon illusion, wade through disappointment after disappointment and settle down for a life without hope, alternating between crises of hot rage and remissions into resignation? Transport yourself, mentally, to some place like Russia for twenty-five years, such as 1991 to 2016, and meditate on that.
Then check the tears of useless passion. Advances in health care have pushed the “I’ve squandered it all” moment into one’s 60s, which are the new 40s, which are the new 20s. In other words, it’s probably not too late. You don’t understand how much agency you have.