I feel trapped.

Today is meh.

I had to kill my dream of joining the military.

I had to kill my dream to drive to Mongolia.

I had to kill my dream of starting a school in Vanuatu.

Forced to. It’s easy to see where we are going with this plandemic.

I left so many partners to chase that road. To finish these dreams. Allison., fuck, I’m sorry. I left you, cause you wanted babies and not a military husband, and definitely not a life on the road to Mongolia in a dusty Jeep. T., I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to have a life in the suburbs, and the father of your kids hindering our ability to get the hell out of the USA forever.

I feel trapped. Where to go? What to do? I can’t even drive to the Yukon to see my relatives, for I’d need to do a mandatory 2 weeks isolation period back in the NWT. Communist Canada is getting old, really quick haha.

I started dreaming again of a property in Mexico or Belize. But… I read Belize’s rules and regs concerning the COVID19. It’s fucking bullshit. “Must have a smartphone with the app at all times” – for tourist. Madness, madness. We can’t go there, can we?

I don’t want to live in a world where I cannot give a handshake to strangers, or hugs to people. I don’t want to live in a world where I cannot go to Turkey and walk without a mask. We can always hope that once the vaccine shows up, we go back to normal, but the fact that Klaus Schwab and Trudeau say there won’t be one, argh, it sucks. A lot.

What, then?

I don’t want to wear a fucking mask, okay? I don’t want to stay 2 meters apart! I don’t want to not be human! I don’t want to send future kids to a dystopian nightmare!

Where can I go? Where do you go when the whole world has gone mad? I need a wood stove, love, a kiss, the divine touch of someone right now, cause I’m losing it.

My sanity will be a causality of this covid19, I’m afraid.

I pray to wake up.

I just wanted to drive to the USA since June 2020, hell, I bought a nice truck thinking I’d be able to overland the USA in 2020. That didn’t happen. There’s not going to be a border open again until there’s a vaccine, and you’ll be required to have it in order to travel. Fuck that. So what, then. Where do we go? What do we do?

Flying to Mexico ain’t a bad deal, but fuck. I don’t know. I am the loneliness man on the planet, standing on top of the world in the Territories of northern Canada, praying for a better day, pushing my little heart across the fog of doom, hoping for another sunrise, for another chance to get to breathe, but there’s nobody for me, and I got nobody. The only thing that sustains James Stockdale in ‘Nam for seven years in his cell was the other. Who’s my other? I know who it is but they are far away, in other lands, other countries. Can’t visit them, vice-versa. I need a bit of love, but my phone is silent.

And so I am at the edge. I want the kiss of a woman on my neck, and a pair of eyes to hold on, cause 2021 is about to be intense. Never mind post 2025+.

“Oh, but you can dream again!” – Yes, yes… thank you, eternal optimist. Well, now, help me, cause my vision’s blurry. But what is a dream if you’re the only one in it? It’s called a nightmare.

I am in March 1994 in Kigali and I made the mistake to have a time machine to see June 1994. Was it okay for me to break up with you? Was it okay to refuse to go to a place that seemed treacherous? I have no answers. I fear one thing in life: A new age feminist woman. Kidding. Or am I haha.

2030 is going to be a full dystopia, and I already want out of it. Where to go? Where to go? I have no answer. I have no answer. Only tears to show for, and an awkward smile. Oh, it’s not that miserable. But I haven’t had a hug in forever. I long to meet a soulmate. Not that the universe did not send me one before, but I seem to miss them, I seem to prefer the Arctic than the hot heart of a woman, and my truck to the drama of new-age feminist. A simple man ;).

And so I will go to sleep, praying for the gods to heal my knee, and my re-kindle my heart, and make me dream again. Dreamers are the first casualties of this new world order, aren’t they.

I need love. And a cold Corona by the side of the beach in Mexico.


JP

Jean Pascal