It’s time to return to our real roots.

The first who fought against their exploitation, against the constant expansion of capital, against the boss and the state (a boss by another name) didn’t fight for some sort of shared fantasy with their class compatriots… they didn’t have some ideological end clouding things. So too should we return. It’s time for us to return to our roots. Not some October Revolution with 21st century paint. Not servility to some state, begging for it to act on our behalf against our exploiters, waiting for a new era to be ushered in by the very organization that keeps the state of affairs.

It’s time to realign this eternal fight to its roots. You. Or more specifically: Us.

For those of us who aim at a freedom, an autonomy greater than the fake “freedom” between who to sell ourselves to, who to put as a master over us, who to represent (lie to) us, which exploiter to support… We find any look at the 20th century as a consistent set of failures, marked by moments of true action tainted by Revolutionary Opportunism or organizations desperate for reforms, careful not to shake too much. We see mass destruction of the world, and the individual. Even the Great Socialist Revolutionaries carry out the Burning of the Green, the Imperialist Expanse. They had no choice; Capital as their guide. On all sides we are crushed for Capital. Whether it’s the Imperialist Core with their private enterprise, for whom the state must bow to, Or the True Socialist Republics time and time again. Anything, no, Everything for the end. And in that Everything is you. Crushed again for Capital. Crushed for growth. Crushed for accounting. Crushed for control. We are crushed on all sides. Our lives, our personhood, always connected to “our” work. To activity stolen from us, mangled by those extracting it from us into something unrecognizable from us. And our recognition of ourselves through this work too becomes mangled. Stand for hours in line, do one thing, do it thousands of times a day, dozens of times a minute. Take your break, that 15 minutes, standing alone, even when someone is with you. What would you even say? “It’s hell out there today!” It’s hell out there every day. You’re not a person. What are you? What do you call this living appendage of the Great Beasts of Concrete and Steel?

What has Work really done for You?

Clock out. Go home. Order yourself food, too broken to make your own. Thank your lucky stars you’ve got a job while others beg.

Stare at the screen. Add a little more passive activity. Too broken to do more.

Crash on the couch, delivery food half finished.

Wake up.

Look yourself in the mirror.

What has Work done to You?

What are you?