Image description: Black, all-caps graffiti on a wall that reads “I’m fucking fed up and tired and I want to die but living is the most punk shit I’ve ever fucking done”

I experience suicidal ideation a lot, and grappling with that is tricky when so much of what is dragging me down is a function of the unjust world. I feel swallowed up by the enormity of what I can’t change, both for myself, and for others.

What gets me through is solidarity, and correctly directed rage. My late best friend learned a lot from being friends with me, and would often end up outraged on the behalf of people whose plight he had learned of. It was good rage though, he didn’t make it about himself and actually through him, I realised that because I felt so powerless, all the negative feelings had ended up being directed internally, which wasn’t good.

It’s not much, but I’ve found refuge in acknowledging how fucked up the world is — even embracing the fact that The System™ would almost certainly prefer me, and people like me, to not exist. I’m so tired, and it’s fucked up that just existing takes so much effort, but it feels a little easier with the understanding that even on my shittiest, low energy day, my life is an act of active resistance. Good old punk spite helps me by.