A Place Shaped Like Me:
A Manifesto At The End Of The Rope
So many times over the past three years
I’ve been forced to capitulate to capitalism;
to silence my own voice at the altar of
paying the rent, buying the groceries.
Those above me in the food chain
make me feel less than I am,
or misguided, or crazy, for caring
about the people around me,
for calling a genocide a genocide,
for speaking truth to power,
for speaking truth at all.
Even lines on a page are open
to the scrutiny of their agents,
their watching eyes, their peering informers.
And I can choose to keep living like this.
I can choose to accept, to shrink,
to lessen, to fade, to wither.
I can say yes and leave each day crying.
I can smother the brightness at the core of me.
I can do all this to pay rent, to buy groceries.
I can even do it because I used to love
what they’ve made me hate.
But there’s no tomorrow.
The glass is already broken.
Time is already up.
And with that realization,
the certain knowledge
that nothing is promised,
that this is my one moment on Earth,
that the worst that can come is the end;
with that as my pole star I can fight.
I can find a new place in this world
where my beliefs are assets,
not rough edges to be sanded down.
I can rise past the lowered aspirations
of those who see only dollar signs,
to a place where I am proud
to be with friends, with comrades.
A place where speaking truth
is expected and welcomed.
A place where the ground supports my feet,
where the air tastes sweeter,
where I remember.
With that knowledge, and with the love
of those closest to me,
I can find a place shaped like me.
/ / /
4 May 2026
Charlottesville VA