Jason Allatt, Low Entropy Volunteer Writer
I am not old. But I am old enough. I was never the tall and proud sentinel of civil rights and social justice, but I am at the very worst a good person. What I am for certain is worn down, if I was ever tall and proud; the passing of the stream, the constant and relentless flow takes and takes and it will never sweep you away or destroy you outright, but it will wear you down. The factor that has smashed me for the longest, the thing most detrimental to the ability to stand for something, is the idea that “money doesn’t buy happiness.” There is no greater lie your parents told you than this. Let’s put the concept of happiness aside for a moment, because the idea of enjoying life is only possible when you are removed from the food chain, when the necessities of your life are so assured that you can turn your eye towards relaxation rather than constantly over your shoulder for a sabretooth tiger or something. Your basic needs: food, water and shelter. Does anyone know where they hand out the free food? Does anyone turn the tap on and not pay utilities? Does anyone know an apartment building where rent is free? See what I’m saying? Money doesn’t buy happiness, it buys existence. If you are not making money, you don’t deserve the basic needs of life.
In August 2025 I had 600 dollars in my bank account. On September 1st, 900 dollars would be taken out to pay the mortgage. I had just received a job offer for the first time in three years of unemployment. If I had any misgivings, apprehensions, ideological differences or anything similar, all of that was now being weighed against homelessness. Are your morals and convictions so strong that you would not take the job because it didn’t align with your beliefs? At the job now, some of my co-workers are happy to have their contract end and move on from this to the point of being shocked that I would stay here. Ah, to be 20 again. I then hilariously explain I am at least a decade older than them, and the adage of “you’re young, you have time” no longer applies to me. And I agree with my co-workers, there are issues, there are frustrations, this isn’t perfect, I don’t agree with XYZ, but after all is said, are you going to help me pay for groceries?
Worn down. Three years of looking for work, three years of being supported by my partner being overworked and underpaid in education (a unique story I know), three years of being told you’re not good enough until you get that piece of paper. And I don’t want to play the game. I don’t want to have to spend $15,000 a year on tuition, I don’t want to hear “a degree is a high school diploma” become “a masters is a high school diploma.” I want the people who have the power to give a shit and say “I have enough money” and for the price of meat and gas and tuition and on and on to be reasonable, I’m not even going to say cheap or affordable, just not so nakedly motivated by greed.
Worn down. I have had a great experience working with these people over the last year, but I feel a pang of sadness when I see these fresh-faced new grads coming into office life and be shocked at what they see. At the grind, at the bureaucracy, at the nonsense. And a sad smirk creases my face, I look up at the new rocks so resolute against the river. They won’t be worn down, they convince themselves. I hope they are right. I hope I am the last one slowly swept away by the man-made multi-generational tide. And if I wasn’t so worn down, maybe I would have faith in them.
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