Every new number feels like a countdown. Anger is cooling into quiet resolve. When voters decide the system is rigg…

The collapse in approval isn’t about partisan jerseys; it’s about kitchen tables and empty wallets. When a presidency sinks into the 30s, it reflects lives stretched to breaking—families watching bills rise faster than wages, workers realizing their loyalty has bought them only insecurity. That 68% who say the country is on the wrong track are not echoing talking points; they are describing their daily reality, one anxious calculation at a time.

In that climate, midterms stop feeling like routine rituals and start looking like the last remaining pressure valve. People who once shrugged at politics now treat their vote as a rare weapon—one small, private act of defiance against a system they believe forgot them. Whether that anger becomes reform or deeper rupture will depend on whether anyone in power hears the warning before the faith that holds everything together finally gives way.