HEY HEY LISTEN THE VOICE OF THE MTA TRANSIT SYSTEM, ALL THE ANNOUNCEMENTS ON THE NYC SUBWAY LINE??

ANTI-CAPITALIST AFFIRMATIONS

i am allowed to spend my time creating things, even if they are not beautiful.

there is no such thing as a "real job." all forms of work are real and valid.

there is nothing that i need to accomplish to be worthy. i am already worthy.

doing nothing is good for my soul.

i am not defined by what i produce.

my worth cannot be measured by my paycheck, my job title, or a list of professional or academic achievements.

i do not need to monetize my hobbies, it is enough to spend time doing something i love.

i will not let society decide what success looks like. i can define what successful life looks like for me.

eye-opening tumblr post for me included the words "people are meant to be burdens" as in humans rely on and support one another and it's not a bother it's our purpose; to love and be loved in return. so if you ever think you're being annoying just remember we were made to love and it's going to be okay

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

Do you ever just make something?

Hey so you know how Uptown Girl and Party Rock have the same BPM? Guess what else has that BPM…

grabs you. hey. listen. one day youll get out of your parents house. you will be able to not go to church on sunday. you will be able to cut and dye your hair any colour you want. you will be able to wear crazy eyeliner and black lipstick or whatever makeup you want. you can swear and be openly queer with your friends and transition and date. YOULL GET OUT OF THERE!!!!!!!

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