I’m sick of not being sick of bullshit that doesn’t actually matter. I don’t need to die tomorrow to be close to death; the energy I put into caring about things rooted in the ethics of death – things that I no longer want to care about anymore – is enough to draw my proximity closer. I may be young but I needn’t have lived many years on this Earth to know that waiting is bullshit. What exactly am I waiting for? To lose ten pounds? For the perfect credit score? (Ha!) Until I feel 100% confidence in myself and my life and experience no insecurities whatsoever? None of those things are very likely to happen and time is just a social construction anyway. What is real is what is felt now – and without getting into the question of metaphysical existence suffice it to say that what is real now is oppression and the suffering that comes along with the ethics of death. The pain that we have the shocking human capacity to feel that is a natural consequence of it. Love is also real – the realest – but there sure as hell ain’t enough of it. Why do so many of us cry alone???
I cry alone all the time but that is not the reason I’m done waiting on revolution. We can be the people who stand behind the revolution when it comes, the ones who say “Oh, yeah, when the revolution starts, sign me up!” Or we can say fuck it and understand that carving our own path and resisting death through life cannot come at a sooner time; in fact, we are already quite late. I can’t wait for the revolution anymore because there ain’t nothing to wait for. What, am I going to cry and then wait for someone else to pass the clipboard around? Nah. Fuck that. Bravery finds strength in the knowledge that our suffering does not stand idle for our ideals. The revolution begins with us and the seeds for its cataclysm lie within our deepest and purest humanity… Somebody has to not give a fuck. Is it going to be you?