It is a strange thing, isn’t it — to wake up each day and realize that breathing, eating, and simply existing have become labors more brutal than the work we were taught to dream of? There was a time, or so they told us, when work was about building a life, stacking one brick of hope upon another, until you could look back and say you had truly lived. Now, survival itself has been twisted into a full-time job, stripped of dignity, stripped of meaning, stripped of the simple promise that if you worked hard, you would be okay.

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