Our Future's a Baby Turtle

I'm glad I'm a writer. It's the best job in the world. I get to look into everyone else's life, see what they're up to then take my notes home and write a report. It's like being a spy which is what I always wanted to be. It's so cool things worked out. It was a little uncertain and sketchy at times. I idled with depression. Postmodernism thoroughly fucked me at university. I came out a little traumatized and definitely lost.

Well, thank fuck for a decade of love, luck, hard work, and help. I'm in a longterm relationship, I'm self-employed, and managing to hold down an apartment. Just as I got good, the whole world went to shit with a fuckin pandemic, a great depression, and battle lines drawn. Corruption flows through the streets like sewage. Where my future once was now's a bloody horizon, smoke-choked and yellow black. My future is a burning trash mountain sliding into the sea. My future is a baby turtle that's flopped across the beach into the waves only to choke on a straw from a fuckin coke bottle.

But I'm young, restless, and resilient. It'll take more than ruining my generation's future to crush out our hopes. We're a bunch of dreamers, entirely sure that this time we're right. As long as we're not castrated by war or enslaved by the rich, we might actually make it. There ain't no 40-year-secure-mortgage-healthcare-and-dental-for-life, motherfucker. We're all freelancers now. So hold onto your butts, the Revolution's going down.