My Angsty Marxist rant

As of late, the angst inside of me has been reaching the boiling point, and I fear if I don’t release some of the pressure the lid will blow off and I’ll go insane.  So I’ve decided to bring it here, the place where fortunately yet unfortunately, not many people are likely to see it.  Being negative is not something I enjoy thriving on, let me get that clear.  I find that writing is much healthier than the other ways I have previously manifested my pent-up angst, such as drugs or self-endangerment through reckless actions. So please, if you’re in a good mood, don’t let me ruin it and please stop reading this. But if you, like me, feel like tearing off all your clothes and screaming fuck the world while skateboarding down the street, by all means read on.  If you make it to the end you deserve a prize.

Where to begin… The summer after the first year in college is a strange one.  It’s been less than three weeks since school’s been out and already I crave being out of my house.  My parents, whom I love very much, seem to forget that there is more to life than working for some rich fuck sitting in his million dollar estate getting blowjobs from his mistress while his depressed and regretting spouse gets high on cocaine.  What happened to the baby boomer generation? When did work and money replace the freedom and idealism their generation is famous for?  My dad’s even come up with a motto he finds quite clever; “life is work” he casually throws into every conversation. To this I say, BULLSHIT. Life isn’t work. America is work, and America is fucked.  No wonder we’re the second most clinically depressed nation on the face of the planet. 

This is a good segue into the second thing that’s been really grinding my gears; people are so OK with being completely shitty toward one another. STOP IT. It only takes a few kind words to make a person’s entire day.  I know from first hand experience how even a smile can literally bring someone back from the edge.  In any interaction with another person, just TRY and be good toward them. You’ll feel better.

I’ve always wondered how billionaires can get a good night’s rest while less than twenty miles from their California beach homes people starve to death on a nightly basis. No doubt the sound-proofing of the walls in their multi-million dollar homes makes sure that gunshot noises from the ghetto don’t snake their way through the wrought-iron gate into their perfectly temperature controlled bedrooms.  And that’s just one example. Passivity and a lack of empathy are just as much the enemy as aggression and hatred.  

Anywho, there’s my little rant.  It didn’t accomplish as much as I thought, but without writing a whole novel I couldn’t really put the thoughts into context.  Leave your thoughts below. Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

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