Category: personal
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I wonder what there is left to hope for. People say that – with the best of intentions, I know – but I look around and see nothing but despair.
You might argue this has happened before. The eighties. We’ve matched their insane inflation today. Who, other than the sanely wealthy, was happy then? It took near a decade to repair that damage, and we didn’t have the ever looming threat of environmental disaster on the horizon. The weather gets worse every year. Everyone shrugs, or hunches over their phones wrapped up in warped conspiracy theories that climate change is all a lie.
When I was a child and learning to write, I wrote very neatly and always as close to the edges as I could get away with. The teacher joked I was “trying to save trees.” I wasn’t consciously doing that, but I was aware in a dim child’s way that paper was precious snd over production caused problems. Ergo, I couldn’t find the humour in this – I was trying to not use too much paper, which was surely saving the school money if nothing else – and all I got was “silly goose” style patronising jokes.
Nothing really changes. I had a dream last night, a child sitting on a rocky over hang and looking at what was left of the valley before. Fire had burnt it to cinders. The skinny cat seated at her side remarked simply, “they’ll never learn.”
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I would be lying if I said my original decision to drop out of work was altruistic. It was for three reasons: my anxiety and depression went into overdrive, and I decided I was safer and happier in my flat doing drugs.
Unsurprisingly, I had to leave the flat due to none payment of rent (my parents bailed my out there), but I clung to those childish little hopes we all have: maybe tomorrow the antidepressants will work, maybe tomorrow I can find the money to buy my stuff and stave off withdrawal, maybe tomorrow I’ll win the goddamn lottery (or mum or my sister will).
Of course, none of these things happened because they are the childish daydreams of an adolescent stuck in an adult’s body. I’ve never found a way to change that mind set. Maybe it is just how I am, but it makes me chronically unsuitable for the modern world.
Reading Liz Truss’s comments about how the workers here should be more like the Chinese workforce (you know, the country that has to put nets around their buildings because of all the suicides from their cruelly overworked workforce), I realised something as dark and sad as I have ever known since the nightmare of secondary school: this world doesn’t give a shit. About any of us. We are here to feed capitalism, and then die.
“Well, what took you so long to realise that?” It’s a good question, and the answer is Elphis. The Goddess of hope. The thing I have clung to for so long, that brief feeling during Jeremy Corbyn’s tenure that maybe things really were changing.
But the Capitalist machine saw off the threat. And now it’s gearing up to grind our bones to make their bread. Before they fuck off into space and leave us all to starve to death. Interstellar was way ahead of its time there.
Well, I’m no cog in a machine. If it comes to it, I’ll make damn sure I’m dead before that happens. I’ll do my drugs because they make life bearable. They will kill me. I’m okay with that. It is, in the end, my choice to do this, and not some asshole bathing in millions I can only dream of.
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Due to mental health issues, I’m not currently able to work at the moment. I do receive government support, but it isn’t much, so any help any of you can give me would be much appreciated. Thank you xxx
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I’ve been having a pretty rough tome in my offline life, so I haven’t been very productive.
Bloody Roses 