I Protested Trump Tower Using All I Had Left: Dashboard Confessional Lyrics

By Shawna Stoltzfoos

I’m a good, peaceful, exhausted, confounded, little American. This is my first one-woman protest. What’s a citizen to do when the maybe Future President is spewing hateful rhetoric and making you pull your hair out at the headlines every day? I mean, he has such an angry mouth, one that’s void of all discretion, such an awful, tearing sound…

You do what any sad millennial would do. You sing I’m not laughing, you’re not leaving, and you sing You can’t fake it hard enough to please everyone, and you sing Proven yourself right: you make the biggest noise…

And you hope that one day you can sing that The campaign has died in the planning stages and the fallen faces are the singular proof it was ever alive…

But when lying on the floor singing emo lyrics at your TV aren’t enough, when logic and reason and compassion and voting and talking and pleading and screaming into the water in the bathtub aren’t enough, you ask yourself WWCCD?* And you take your deepest emotions to the streets.

[Of course, these days Trump Tower is constantly surrounded by news crews, barricades, NYPD, security personnel, and doormen, so it’s harder than it sounds. When I arrived, I was informed by police that Trump owns the sidewalk in front of the tower, so it’s not public property, and I’d have to hold up my signs across the street. “So if I stand across the street, I’m good?” I asked with my puppy dog emo eyes. “I’m not going to get arrested?”

The officer shrugged at me while leafing through my signs. “If you see someone coming at you with handcuffs, run.”

I was pretty sure he was joking, but it wasn’t reassuring. He seemed to approve of my signs once I told him they were song lyrics, even though he didn’t appear to recognize them. No accounting for taste.]

Shawna 1

Shawna 2

Shawna 3

Shawna 4

Shawna 5

This feeling of despair
Is never wearing out
Wearing out
Wearing out
Weaaaaaaaaaaring Ouuuuuuuuuuuuut…..
*What Would Chris Carrabba Do