The elections of 2016 and 2024 had two similar features: both involved me waking up in the middle of the night, believing that everything that was happening was a dream. Derealization was a major feature of my life generally in 2016, and makes its appearances in my life every now and then. But its appearance as we face another round of fascism, and as I read through Mariana Enríquez’s Our Share of Night, the echoes of it in that book, reminded me that it is also deeply entwined with fascism.

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…whatever version of me currently exists.

It really felt like this was the year that people deeply disavowed resolutions. Maybe that speaks more to the circles of people I run in, but it felt like people around me were really disavowing doing that. I saw some reference somewhere (probably on bluesky) to resolutions as a kind of Foucauldian confession, releasing ourselves to a panoptic eye that surveils our mandated-by-capital self-improvement.

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