“Why must the present state continue being so?
I waste away my life and barely make ends meet
Like every morning death’s call I readily greet
Never having bravery for even one blow
Obeying every order from owed industry
By consequences denied my own self-mastery
What could I become were I allowed to flourish?
My own will finally mine alone to nourish
I have no choice that tomorrow work continues
I torture myself with these dreams I still peruse
Nothing ever changes to stop the sun rising
How much power would I need to halt this cruelty?
Should my existential need be my sole advising
In defiance of what my sees as beauty?
Dakota’s eyes downcast, shadowed darker from gloom
Turning to their, they shift until they’re laying
Body tensed, overcast emotions displaying
Thought’s now relentless racing; reminiscent doom”
Every morning, you utter your usual groan prior work; every night you head to sleep, exhausted. You’re likely cognizant of these cycles, of your coerced state of reproducing daily living. You come home from work, you relax – you think of what is to come. Toil, leisure. You know what’s next because it’s been so – as you’ve willed, ad nauseum. Comfort is found in the expected, the safe – you need to work.
How do we know the sun will rise tomorrow? That it always has – that for things to not be as such would demand a dramatic change. We can’t necessarily predict the future – we operate under the assumption that the highly likely will become. When you arrive home from work – to rest – you are preparing to, again, work. You expect to, at least – even should, worse case, you be fired; work happens, again.
The longing for this state of rest – leisure; the dread of the toil that must come. Caught between, amidst, after, throughout – you become aware. You think of what will be, in longing or in dread. The expected. You reminisce – about your doom.
Work is a defilement of the will’s potential beauty. Made to do as another demands, as another dictates, through the ascription to a form of aesthetic creation – the adoption of an aesthetic – contrary to one’s self-interest; being made to think of one’s self-enslavement as virtuous. A hard day’s rest means you roll the stone again.
As Stirner says, for the master to not be master – the master must not be seen as master. The chains must be discarded, not atoned for, explained away, normalized. To believe things must be as such is integral to things being as such – or, as Mao says, to think things not being as such impossible is precisely what creates this impossibility. What one is willing to will, repeatedly, will continually come into being – and my desire for things to not be willed as such is a matter of a sufficiently strong will to power.
Rather than find comfort, of the hedonistic sort of the structural sort, in one’s conditions of oppression, enslavement – be uncomfortable, be unwilling, be defiant. Make things impossible to be as such. Refuse to reproduce your chains daily. Immediately – or bide your time?
Create your will to anarchy – however that might be.
Sofia DeFerrari 23976151
Coffee Creek Correctional Facility
24499 SW Grahams Ferry Road
Wilsonville, OR 97070
Mongoose Distro 