As a socialist organizer and DSA - Democratic Socialists of America - member, I have chosen to dedicate my life to fighting for the working-class; that means fighting for anti-racist, anti-colonialist, feminist, democratic, working-class centered issues. However, a lot of what I do can become overwhelming and exhausting quickly. Sometimes just witnessing what is happening can be enough.
Essential workers deserve so much more than what they're receiving. They deserve the world when they are only receiving dirt.
It's a beautiful early summer day; the sun shines bright, and the cool wind sweetly wipes away the sweat droplets forming on your forehead. You walk towards the bodega. As soon as you step on the block, you hear in the distance the faint sound of lively bachata music; slowly, it gets stronger, permeating the streets with melancholic melodies of past loves and betrayal until you get to the bodega. Both the guy, Pedro, and the bodega cat or Mr. Manager, as you call him, greet you at the same time.
You wake up in the morning and think, "why am I alive?" You contemplate on bed whether or not it is worth getting up. You don't get up. You don't get up at all, even though you know that there are a million reasons to get up. You pull your comforter over your head, hoping that the temporary feeling of warmth might alleviate some of the pain you've constantly been feeling. You want to die. You feel worthless. What's the point? You're a waste of space.