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I remain struggling to want to keep ongoing. It seems the only thing my heart desires that feels realistically attainable is justice. Not justice on a grand scale, but justice for myself. Is it worth it to stay just for that? And why oh why must justice take so long?!
I’m often filled with rage. Nothing scares me anymore. I’ve even spent time in prison and thought it really wasn’t that bad. I don’t live in the US but I don’t live in Norway either, when people like me start thinking prison isn’t so bad, there is something wrong with the world (as if you didn’t already know). If I went to federal detention I could probably get a couple of PhDs! Then again the people who make the world the horrible place it is will probably say, “See we need to make prison more barbaric!” Ah there is no winning with such types. Makes me think of The Handmaid’s Tale, and the theme of its third season; that in the end its the ones capable of the most brutality that win. If true, and I think it might be, how could we ever create a more just world? Have we ever had a more just world at all? I feel like Winston in 1984, I’m no longer certain the past they tell us about is even true. Was it really worse when we had Kings? How could the bourgeoise topple them if they weren’t even more brutal?
The French Revolution brought with it the metric system and the guillotine (other things too, but for which I don’t care for). How enlightened of them to find a less brutal way to end a life, and yet the lives were ended just the same. No, the disguising of suffering and brutality is for the living, not the dying and dead. If I should ever be executed, I should ask for a stoning instead! Then at least the monsters would know what they are and what they’ve become.
It’s a theme in my thinking, one of a handful or so, to expose the brutality of the system, of our way of thinking. Even niceties make me angry sometimes; say hello and smile at the homeless person (which I a make a habit of doing so they don’t feel so alone and disconnected) but then, are we pretending everything is okay? He hasn’t had access to a shower in weeks and smells, hasn’t eaten but isn’t hungry because he’s going through withdrawals or is too feeble minded to know or care (truly feeble minded, not “I watch the Kardashians” morons who have no excuse), but, “hello, brother” as I walk away towards lunch or a coffee with some pretty girl who was so cursed by her attractiveness that she was not able to develop an intellect so that I could even enjoy her beauty.
Yes, we should spit on the homeless maybe. Show our true cruelty. Maybe then there wouldn’t be any homeless, may our better nature might be too offended to continue having homeless people. Maybe, maybe not.
I’ve been thinking about my own life; both future possibilities and my demise. On the one hand I long for simplicity; move away from the city, build my own home with my own two hands near a lake somewhere far from civilization. On the other hand, I want to dedicate my life to fighting power; such a thing I know fully would cause me great suffering but I’ve learned to see the beauty in suffering even if others don’t.
Suicide for me is about exposing the brutality in part. They don’t care about us being poor, or in prison, or alone, but mention suicide and suddenly the system seems to have an obligation to care about you. How silly! Its an interesting fact nonetheless, why? Suicide is an affront to our civilization, it speaks loudly and truly that he who has died had no place on this earth. This does not coincide with the party’s main doctrine, and can be destructive to the party. In every suicide is a revolution; it is when we tell the party, 2 and 2 make 4!
Suicide is also beautiful to me. I know I want to be beautiful. Suicide is beautiful. It can make you feel things you’ve never felt before; make your heartache. I feel that way when a beautiful girl smiles at me; what could I ever do to make her feel the way she just made me feel. Or a song, book, or film, of just utter perfection, or sometimes even in its simplicity, that just breaks your heart. That’s beautiful. Passionate too. We don’t appreciate these things anymore, the party tells us that its nice and all but its not as important as making money and being productive (always for the benefit of the party). These things are silly.
I might die long before my time but I assure you I have lived the life of five or more because I always knew what really mattered and I never let anything stop me. I still won’t, at least not until my last breath.