Confessions of a Liberal: My Moral Compass Is Broken and I'm Not Sorry

When political exhaustion pushed me past my ethical limits

The Moral Paradox of a Liberal Mind

I've spent my life championing liberal ideals—the rule of law, freedom of speech, equal rights, and the fundamental dignity of human life. These aren't just principles I support; they're the bedrock of my political identity.

I've always opposed the death penalty, believing state-sanctioned execution has no place in a civilized society.

Yet here's my first moral paradox: I've maintained for decades that I would personally throw the switch on child predators. Not only do I not struggle with this contradiction, but I also embrace it.

Pedophiles, in my opinion, have forfeited their right to exist among us. They serve no purpose, have virtually no chance of rehabilitation, and their absence would objectively improve our world.

This brings me to a darker paradox, one that's been haunting my thoughts lately.

The other night, I confessed something to a friend. "I'm troubled," I told her, "not by my wishes for Trump's demise, but by how completely unbothered I am by those wishes."

"A sudden heart attack, stroke, or total collapse into dementia would suffice," I added, leaving the rest unsaid for obvious legal reasons.

Here's what unsettles me: I feel no moral conflict about these thoughts. This isn't a choice or a passing opinion—it's simply my truth, as natural as breathing. Every morning I wake up and every night I go to bed with these thoughts, and I feel no guilt.

What does this say about me? About what these years of political chaos have done to our collective psyche?

I don't have answers, only more questions.

The Toll of Political Exhaustion

As we approached the 2024 election, I prayed for Trump's defeat—not out of fear for democracy's survival, but from bone-deep exhaustion. I still believe in America's fundamental goodness.

I trust that our democracy, Constitution, and rule of law would survive another four years of the circus.

But Trump's first term wore me the fuck out. The relentless firehose of bullshit from him and his MAGA acolytes drained something essential from my spirit.

The prospect of four more years (minus three months now) feels like contemplating a marathon while already gasping for air.

Yet here I am, still in the trenches, writing, fighting to preserve and protect the country I love.

That's the final paradox: loving a nation enough to wish death on those who threaten it, while believing deeply in the democratic principles they undermine.

A Final Reflection

Perhaps these contradictions—between my liberal ideals and my darker impulses, between my faith in democracy and my exhaustion with its current state—aren't really paradoxes at all.

Maybe they're the natural response of a moral mind grappling with immoral times. Or maybe they're simply the price we pay for remaining engaged in an age of political extremism.

I don't know. But I do know that acknowledging these thoughts, however uncomfortable, feels more honest than pretending they don't exist.

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Author's Note: This piece explores personal thoughts and feelings that, while deeply felt, should not be construed as advocating for or encouraging harm to any individual.