There’s Never an Answer to Why We Poison Our Own People.


I had my zillionth anxiety attack. You’d think I’d be able to fend one off by now, but that never happens. They always get me.

They know when I’m vulnerable, and when it’s all said and done, I’m one big wreck.

It hasn’t killed me yet. Though by the time you’re reading this, I could be. Dead. There’s always that possibility.

I don’t have a death wish, but I obsess about it. Especially in the middle of a panic attack. It’s exhausting, fighting them off. I try to get the upper hand, so I plan things — like selling the house.

Then, without warning, I get the news. My friend, my 10-years-younger than me friend, has died. How did she manage to get Stage 4 pancreatic cancer? She was perfect. She never drank or smoked or took drugs or had diabetes, and had an amazing, loving husband. Check, check, check. All the things that should’ve insured a long, and healthy life. What the fuck happened here?

I do not take this well. It confirms why I find life overwhelming. Then, of course, there are the shootings — the mass shootings. The constant ping-ping-ping from some deranged monster, a monster that was once someone’s child. There. That part. The part they were once a child. That’s the hardest piece to wrap my head around. Now they have guns, lots of guns, and are killing innocent people. Why?

Why, I’ve learned, is a not a good question. There’s never an answer to Why.

I wish there were no guns. I want to get rid of them. Melt them down and build something — a submarine, or a boat that floats. Yeah, I want that.

It’s not gonna happen. The crazy people, the people I think are crazy for profiting from these weapons, won’t let it happen. Guns in America are weapons of mass destruction — unlike the fake weapons of mass destruction Bush lied about in Iraq. Or was it Iran? I can’t keep up with our mealy-mouthed history of it.

But hey, maybe next year will be different. Women are running for government. Lots of them. It could be… the year everything goes great! Maybe. Or maybe that only works if you have one name. Like Beyonce, or Oprah. Not Ellen though. The pound, you know, took Ellen’s rescue dog from her. They took it from her hairdresser, the family she gave it to because it couldn’t get along with Ellen’s other rescue animals.

Ellen went on national television and cried, begging the pound people, Please, do not rip the pound dog out of the hands of the little girl and single hairdresser mom who love the dog. But they did. They ripped that dog, that family member, from the hands of the people who loved it because Ellen had not followed the rules! This explains in a nutshell why I hate rules.

Rules fail when human lives aren’t taken into consideration.

Like gun control.

I’m breathing still, but shallowly. I woke up with a headache. That’s because I woke at 4 a.m. terrified, of everything. My age, my fear, my uncertainty. I do not have my shit together. This is not a comfortable feeling, this in between place. Prices everywhere, for everything, are ridiculous, unaffordable. Health care is unaffordable. Living is unaffordable. Organic food is unaffordable.

But that’s okay. There won’t be any organic anything for long. Because people like the Donald, our president, gave Dow Chemical the right to poison our crops with nerve gas. They gave Donald one million dollars as a Thank You. This is how we poison the American people. Poison them with nerve gas, with oil spills, and with no insurance. But it’s all okay, right?

We watch as money and power corrupt and destroy empathy and compassion. It’s the way it is. It’s business as usual.

I tried to get a boat. You know, you can’t legally live on a boat without a live-aboard slip, and those aren’t easy to find. Maybe I should go to Paris? All my friends want to go to Spain or Portugal. I don’t know, Paris sounds good. Or Greece. Shit. I don’t know where to go. How about New York? There’s a lot of people in New York, and I like people. Damn. I will have to to start all over.

Where’s my assistant to help me figure this out? Oh yeah, silly me, I don’t have an assistant.

It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.

God bless America.


Paulina Graziose is an entrepreneur, a free spirit, and a truth-teller. You could contact her via her website.


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