Do you ever wonder if you’ll die alone? I don’t, not anymore.
This isn’t some “nobody will ever love me” emo-post, it’s the reality of our present situation.
The climate crisis will not be resolved before humanity wipes itself out, 2020 has made that clear.
The broader voting populace have shown that they’re prepared to settle for annihilation, as long as it means the hippies and progressives don’t succeed in saving the world.
This year has seen a global recession that does not appear likely to end before the economy winds up where most of my generation has existed for decades: depression.
And if it does get that far, it’ll be too late to take the power back from those making trillions from our slow demise.
I lost everything this year. People I thought were friends betrayed me in the worst way imaginable, costing me my family.
The lies they spread broke me.
Getting arrested and sentenced to four months gaol for climate protesting was nothing compared to the heartbreak of being told that I mean nothing to her.
For once in my miserable pathetic life I actually hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet a spiteful coward tore everything from me because they couldn’t stand that I refused to abandon years of work for their garbage half-arsed ideological theories.
For months now, I might as well have not existed.
When I could afford to survive, when I wasn’t trapped by the government’s poverty policy, I had drive and focus. I managed to suppress the darkness of being tossed aside by throwing myself into union work.
But that’s never worked for me, it was stupid to hope this time might be different.
And yet, even this isn’t what helped me to see that nothing will ever get better.
We are decades into knowing that global warming will end life as we know it, and yet still there is no urgency.
The Australian political class will watch us burn because it’s great for ratings, and still, as COVID exposes all of the gaping holes in our society, there is little drive for the massive sweeping reforms necessary if anyone wants to survive this century.
I can’t keep pretending that I have the energy to forge ahead.
This year, I pulled twenty grand from my superannuation, all of it went to paying off debts.
I desperately need to see a dentist, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, and a physiotherapist.
I am in constant pain physically, emotionally, and psychologically.
But I am so conditioned by poverty to only focus on immediate outcomes that I’ve lost the capacity to consider planning ahead in situations like that.
It was only this month that I realised I should have kept some of that money to seek treatment.
But even that’s no guarantee.
In August I tried to organise a mental health plan, but discovered instantly that I couldn’t afford the upfront costs.
It’s the one thing they never tell you when spruiking the mental health scam: it’s not free sessions with a therapist, you get a rebate.
Which means anyone trapped by years of trickle-down abuse and exploitation in our welfare system, notable for being the worst in the OECD, is utterly fucked.
It will literally take a violent revolution for this country to see the corporate class for what it is, and I don’t think the left is capable of uniting against the profiteers who would see us choke to death on the dust that was once a river.
So this is where I land: nothing to live for and no hope anything will improve.
The lucky country, indeed.