"The first time Donald Trump took the oath of office, I felt an overwhelming sense of doom. My whole body somehow felt both impossibly heavy and utterly empty at the same time, like it couldn't decide whether it'd be safer to sink into the ground or float away into the clouds. I'll forever remember when Sean Spicer - Trump's first in what became a revolving door of White House press secretaries - stormed up to the podium, red-faced and fuming,"
"This time around, it felt different. In January 2025, when Trump laid his hand on the Bible to begin his second term, it wasn't heaviness or emptiness or darkness or doom that consumed me. It was resignation. None of this was unbelievable anymore. In fact, what made it so hard was just how believable it had become. One term could have been a fluke, a voting bloc gone off the rails by a professional con artist promising roads paved with gold."
The first inauguration produced an overwhelming sense of doom, experienced as bodily heaviness and emptiness and an urge to either sink into the ground or float away. Sean Spicer's red-faced declaration that no inauguration crowd had ever been as large as Trump's crystallized a realization that Trump would not rise to the occasion. By January 2025, Trump's second-term oath produced resignation rather than shock, with two terms reframing the outcome as a sustained movement rather than a fluke. Exhaustion followed years of failed hopes. Persistent resistance continued through protests, lawsuits, and frustrated politicians, including No Kings demonstrations and relentless legal challenges.
Read at LGBTQ Nation
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