Dear diary
Things are getting worse between me and capitalism.
It says it loves me and wants to take care of me. But how many times have I heard that?
It’s time I faced up to the truth.
Capitalism doesn’t care about me, it only cares about making money.
I thought it was such a charmer, with its dazzle and glamour and can-do flair, but I was being fooled.
It’s a psychopath.
Whatever goes wrong is never its fault.
Whenever I protest, it tells me I’m imagining things, I don’t understand, I worry too much.
When I say there are other ways of living, it tells me I’m being delusional.
Whenever it hurts me it swears that it’s sorry, that it can change, that it will be better in future. But it never is.
I look terrible. I feel drained. I’m getting sicker all the time, but capitalism just feeds and feeds and won’t stop.
I’m terrified that one day it’ll kill me and then go and find some other planet to shack up with.
I really want a social system that’s the opposite of capitalism, one where there’s no buying and selling but only free sharing, one that treats me with real love and respect, one that tells me I’m beautiful and means it, one that knows how to take proper care of me instead of prostituting me to its billionaire friends, one that makes me feel safe and is fun to be around.
Dear diary, I know I can have that society, and I know I deserve it. I just need to find the courage to leave capitalism, before it’s too late.
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