030119

​Recently, several ~older people~ have informed me that I am responsible for the revolution. They keep saying things like, “It’s going to happen … revolution is coming … you just have to make it happen … it’s up to you. It won’t happen without you. You have to make it happen.” And I always reply with, “I know, I know. I know.” It’s an incredible weight to carry. I fear that my generation is/are (?) too stupid (n.b previous parentheses), too disillusioned (thanks largely to the mistakes made by aforementioned ~older people~), too lazy (couldn’t be arsed to Google if it’s ‘is’ or ‘are’) to stage a revolution – or at least a decent one. I am, anyway. Too tired. Too wasted. Too hopeless. Too fucked up to revolt, to revolt properly. The 1% would eat a girl like me for breakfast or brunch or whatever first meal rich people eat out of the many meals they get to eat every day. They will shaft us for as long as they are 1 and we are 99. I’m too poor to front a revolution. Too tired to fight. Too stuck to make a change. Too sick to make anything better. And I’m sorry and ashamed about it. Truly.

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