

As someone with executive functioning struggles, there’s a sort of paradoxical aspect to it that is hard. I believe children are supposed to grow up to be fairly autonomous; not in the individualist bootstraps sense, but in the sense of being confident toward pursuing and fulfilling their needs and desires.
I definitely have executive functioning issues. I’m pretty sure I’m autistic and deep in autistic burnout, so that makes functioning a lot harder. I’m also pretty fucked up from the death of a parent when I was a young child. My surviving parent gently nudged me to try a bunch of interests, but the gaping hole in my psyche made it so I was pretty depressed from the get go. Combine that with psychological abuse at the hands of a psychotic step parent (as in they regularly had literal psychoses and delusions that spurred them to be cruel to my surviving parent, not in the dismissive ableist kind of way), and I’ve got a lot poison in me I’ve yet to purge from my system even though that was over a decade ago.
Being conscientious under a system like this is its own element to add to paralysis.
Tell me about it! When I mentioned my embedding in a bourgeoisified proletarian social circle, my paralysis comes as much from the mental impact of knowing I need to slowly seek out a revolutionary social circle (while not completely blowing up at the people I already know and burning bridges) as it is the more obviously material aspects of it.
I quoted the bit about conscientiousness because I had an experience recently that really highlights how Capital can stick its hand up peoples’ asses and speak through them like a puppet, and damn it I need to vent about it!
I had traveled to another city with some friends I’ve known for a long time to attend an event. I realized that I forgot to bring antiperspirant, so I left the hotel on my own to go get some from a local pharmacy. On the way, a homeless man flagged me down and asked me to buy him some food. Besides wanting the help the guy, he suggested getting the food at the same pharmacy I happened to be going to without me mentioning I was going there. I felt like it would be an especially dick move to turn him down. That, and I had bought a coffee from the hotel’s restaurant without realizing it was Starbucks. Not only did I feel guilty for unwittingly violating BDS; I had also spilled the last bit of coffee on my face on my walk shortly before meeting the man, and had even taken my glasses off to lick it off. My aura was pretty weak.
I made the short walk with the guy to the pharmacy, he made some strange remarks about having been dropped on his head as a baby (he even took off his hat to show me the bump on his head), and I only understood about a third of what he was saying. Though mostly incomprehensible, he was very nice and not threatening in the least. We got to the pharmacy, I bought him the groceries he picked out, I bought my antiperspirant, and we parted ways.
Later that day, when I was eating lunch with my friends, I mentioned my side quest from earlier. I thought it was an interesting little event and would be fun to bring up. They fucking harped on me for it! They said I could’ve gotten killed (it was broad daylight and the entire route went through a busy area), and that I should’ve just ignored him entirely. One of these friends (whose humor consists mostly of rage b8ing people) mocked me by pointing out the window to another homeless person panhandling on the street below and saying, “Look, a homeless person! You should go down there and give him some money!”. Even the most proletarian and left leaning one of the group (I think he’s some kind of demsucc) said it was a bad idea, though he didn’t twist the knife like the others.
I know that individual acts of charity, and even charity organizations, are no solution to poverty, but Jesus Hussein Christ! Their reactions were damn sickening! It wasn’t even a “you’re bragging about doing a good thing, get off your high horse” kinda reaction, but a “fuck da homeless, but make it sound socially acceptable” kind of thing.
The dark one, Capital, possesses those who do not guard against him. Through the lips of his legion, he whispers lies into the ears of the masses. Against those who would bring about his demise, he deploys his barbed tongue; the resolve of most crumbles. Against the few whose souls escape his grasp, he deploys fire and brimstone; bullets and white phosphorous; surveillance and assassination; carpet bombings and guided missiles. Though he has long reigned over the earth, his power is weakening. In his all-consuming hunger, he devours his own legs out from under himself! For every person he kills, dozens see him for what he truly is and take arms against him. Those who have merely some of his blessings are betrayed, immiserated; his lies may linger in their hearts for a time, but cold reality will force them to see the only way out. Capital must die! Capital will die!
I meant to respond to more, and I do need to work on my confidence like you said, but I ended up in a stream of consciousness creative writing kind of thing at the end there for some reason. Now I’m tired.














Anslopic