Pulled between deep roots of blame and wings that ache to rise, the mind begins to shed CRT’s frame.
No longer bound by Marxist fate or inherited guilt, a quiet revolt stirs. You are not the past, you are flight.
Freedom begins where borrowed identities are finally left behind and self-determination starts.
Feeling boxed in by society’s rules? Like life handed you a dungeon map but forgot the exit key?
Between suffocating norms and cog-in-the-machine expectations, it’s enough to spark a personal rebellion.
Shake it up, map your way out, and remember: disrupt the system, not yourself—preferably with flair and zero casualties.
In this “Who Moved My Cheese?” saga, I revel in the joy of remote labour. But the ticking clock of an ending contract sends the winds of change my way.
New opportunities beckon, but they could be sandwich artists on Etsy or cow milkers on a farm, pay cheques pending.
Meanwhile, my life partner’s inflexibility could land us back in Gauteng, a locale met with a sigh and a shrug. Job-seeking Hein’s skills are vast as the sky.
I’m hoping the universe will toss me more than a stale breadcrumb of hope. Did I mention he was available?
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Exposed: The Voter Trust Crisis No One Talks About
As the world melts, unwavering party loyalty breeds a self-imposed blindness. We look but do not see fractured realities; propaganda shatters convictions as we turn to racist blame and hatred, turning truth to air.
This silent endorsement of the status quo, of continiously voting for a disfunctional government party, or not voting at all, this “speaking by saying nothing,” allows decay to proliferate.
Voting polls shapes our collective and detrimental legacy of experience, dividing us as blamegaming govern the day, when nobody takes responsibility to right the wrong, even though in the vote, they agreed in subjegation.