I remember very clearly the visceral feeling of hating and not understanding money when I was in primary school. I remember reading on the history of money by myself and writing about how a society would function without money. And what I wanted wasn’t for society to go back to trading, that’s for sure. Of course I quit that idea because how the fuck would a kid that hasn’t worked a day in their life know how it could work. And if it was a good idea, then money wouldn’t exist anyway, because we know our society is at the peak of history, we live in peace after all of those past, barbaric societies

Of course I didn’t know shit about capitalism or communism or anarchism or anything like that. I just remember a burning sensation in my heart that was completely unable to understand why we had to compete for resources and stand out… like, stand out? everyone? doesn’t that mean no one stands out? and what if I don’t want to stand out or am not able? do I just get it worse than the others for no reason? Literally the sole existence of the concept of “standing out” revolted my soul. Its sole existence made me want to *not* stand out, why would I try to study and get good grades to get a good job if that means that others just don’t? What sparked this rivalry with money was my inability to measure value. I needed a notebook for school, my parents weren’t well off so I had to share the same one for multiple subjects and with really bad quality paper that felt awful, compared to the quality of the notebook of my classmates which was a dream to write on. But I didn’t blame my parents for not buying me the thing, I wasn’t even envious of my classmates, I just wondered “these don’t exist because people want them, but because they cannot afford others”. In what world does that make sense? Why wouldn’t kids be able to have notebooks and why would them have notebooks of different quality based on which family they were born with? It didn’t add up.

Now I have been exposed to a lot more and I know these feelings are literally bare a bare minimum of empathy and that there’s an uncountable number of people that have died, are dying and will die defending these ideals. Now I know all these ideas have a name and history attached to them, whole currents of thought and studies but also controversies, cultures, myths, stereotypes and common imagery. The problem now is that I know now that I don’t live in no culmination, no adult got anything figured out and all we’ve got is scars of people trying, an ugly mess of scars.

I think the kid I was was right. They were right to doubt the world and to think something better was possible. They were also right to think the solution would be simpler and prettier to be right. Such society shouldn’t need these scars, and it is my belief that the kid shouldn’t need to know to be right either