When all is said and done, after the chest-thumping and self-victimization and righteous flailing have sapped the last of your mental energies, you’re left with this.
Make-believe cartographic emotionalism. What you can’t achieve in real life, because you lack the cohesion and commitment, you revel in from behind the illusory curtain of empowerment.
You have this.
Symbolic geographical Utopias housing mythical contributions to a world that never was. When reality is too hard, too trying, and the effort to make symbols reality eludes, you assume a vicarious strength which dissolves to dust when the hard light of reality glares upon your dashed collective aspirations.
Normally this stillborn sense of accomplishment would rightfully perish on its own and in their absence leave you with the will to turn the vaporized fantasies into reality; but in today’s world, you rely on elitist cultural mouthpieces whose business it is to perpetuate fantasy for profit. And this is where you are stuck. In fantasy.