It was my sister. You're great to talk to, she said. You listen. Not many people do. But with the advice, you're not so good.
I'm a bit extreme. It's either do or don't for me. There's no in-between. Do what you want. Don't do what you don't want. There's no compromise. There's no gray. It's black or white. The rest is waste. And we've no time to waste, we humans.
With this job-business, I'm the same. Jobs are slavery—it's in my mind. And I won't be a slave. So I'll get free. That's it.
So that's my advice, how to escape the drudgery of a 9-to-5 job. You view it as slavery—because it is slavery, I've tried to prove—because there are no other alternatives than to work if you won't take handouts, or if you're not from a wealthy family, that one percent. So you recognize that you really are a slave. And you get free. You break the shackles—quit your job—at your very soonest opportunity. And you run. Into the woods you run, into the unknown, North, or wherever. You create a new life from there, from nothing, but free. Because it's freedom you value above all else.
You find a way once you're free. It's all you have to do. Or, what else will you do? Return to n'uncle Sam so that he can give you your old position in the fields? After he whips you back into submission first maybe, just so that he can send you down into the mines, where you're very likely to just die. Because you were too scared to escape, to deal with very certain, though possibly temporary, and unknown tribulations for supposed comfort and ease—life and death.
You have to become extreme about it. Else you'll be lulled into complacency. Because nearly everyone else is lulled into complacency too. You are what surrounds you. If you don't make a violent shift in your attitude, to go against this modern-day-slavery, then a cow passive in its pasture you will remain, all surrounded by more passive cows in the pen too.
Look, the woods are a very frightening place. How will you survive? But you do. Or you don't. But then you die fighting at least, trying. And maybe you do reach some city North—so to speak. And you continue surviving. You keep building. You start from the mud. You make it work. Because the other option is returning to slavery. You'll sleep in the same clothes for weeks outside on some smelly bench in a park in order to remain free. You'll go days and days hungry to stay free. Because the other alternative is to return to slavery, where you'll die in chains. If you're going to die anyway, then choose to die free at least. Because nothing else matters, not cars, houses, diamonds, clothes, none of it—not if you're a slave.