Over the last few days, with Flynn’s and Puzder’s resignations and Conway’s ethics investigation, it’s felt like the start of an unraveling of the Trump administration. Maybe it re-tangles immediately. Maybe it unspools all at once in a thick pile of thread. At the moment, it’s agonizing to witness. I’m having a hard time with it.

Objectively, we’re moving further away from the darkest timeline. We’ve been fighting tooth and nail to do it, to shine more light on the problems that were always there. It feels awful. Even though I’ve been screaming “look! look!” it’s demoralizing to lose even the patina, the veneer that in some way, there might be a functional executive branch that somebody might be happy with.

It’s one of those emotions there isn’t a word for. Ripple regret, I might call it. I don’t think I could have done more to prevent this; but other people could have, who are parts of my same organism, who did something abominable; who are maybe starting to know that now.

It must be a pallid cousin of survivor guilt, with all of us standing on the runway after the last plane took off. I guess you’re right, I guess we should have left the house earlier. I guess we have to find shelter now.

(There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said no. But somehow we missed it.)