Vorwort

Diese politischen Gedanken spiegeln lediglich die Einstellung zum Zeitpunkt ihrer Veröffentlichung und nicht unbedingt aktuelle politische Einstellungen der Autorin wider.

There is no one left like me.

That is a realization that creeps into my consciousness every weekend. The only two days I am not constantly worrying about work or being at work. With the commute I am at work for roughly 12 hours a day, not much time left to even get the basics done.

Even worse that every sunday evening I sit at home and feel nothing but regret. I usually spend those two sacred days in a mixture of doing chores that were postponed during the week and gaming. And gaming is fun and all. But I miss who I was. Who I used to be. Who I still am at heart. A rebel with morals that are both the unstoppable force and immovable object. I used to be in more trouble because of that. I faced criminals, I faced nazis specifically, I faced the police and state system and I faced criminal nazi cops in the state system.

By all means, it was a more troublesome life. Much moreso than my current life in which I worry about filing my retirement plan correctly and having proper reputation for my work. But it also was a more worthy life. I feel like my life is on hold. That I am „getting through“ more than living. That I am falling into the trap that I identified most people falling into. A promise of a laid back, safe life lures into the cycle of capitalist labour, replacing existential threats with pseudoexistential ones and keeping one in a loop of constant worry, of privilege that may at any point be revoked. A paralyzing fear and constant mental occupation with ultimatively meaningless matters preoccupy the consciousness and keep one suspended in a state of non-awareness. The antithesis to being ‚woke‘ in the original meaning of the term. Sleeping pills, or anesthesia perhaps.

Time passes at an ever incerasing pace. And more and more often I believe it would be worth trading my civil existence, my documents, my work, the money, the apartment even.. to throw it all away and run away again. To once again be free, an outsider to the system in a constant fight against it. That is exhausting. But so is this bullshit, without any of the reward or meaning to it. We all live a pointless life and are nothing but a menace to the people around us. We’d all be better off with each other dead or gone because we live against each other in a system paradoxically upheld by each other. A truly mad construction for proletarians to work their asses off against each other, generating infinite wealth for the scumbags for whom I wish only things that would be punished by the state system if I dared saying them.

And a few years ago, I might have dared saying them. Because I was underprivleged, they couldn’t take much from me. But now I stand on a pile of privilege that they may revoke at any time. I am remote controlled, a worker drone directed by the state apparatus and capital. I keep telling myself that there is a way to keep the privilege and my job (which I enjoy) while also not giving up my entire life and becoming a useless stupid bitch that is nothing but a part of the problem.

But so far I’ve failed and I feel that with the pace the world is enshittifying itself the world needs an uncompromising rebel more than anything else, whether it appreciates that rebel or not.