THE GRIP: In honour of your shit, comrade. Which you kept “together” in the face of total, unrelenting terror.
The world tries to impose its will on you; pressure, temptation, doubt. But in the core of your being, something hardens: a quiet, immovable resolve. An inner guardian stands vigil, resisting every shove.
In contemporary culture, willpower is framed as productivity. Efficiency. Progress is linear, relapse is moral failure, and exhaustion is personalised. This is your ability to reject that narrative, and persist.
Resisting the trained habits you are attempting to outgrow: doom-scrolling, self-sabotage, avoidance, ironic detachment, drugs, subsumption, nihilism. Volition does not eliminate these behaviours but negotiates with them.
You mirror this rhythm: cycles of intensity followed by withdrawal; production followed by erasure; images worked and reworked until they nearly disappear. Getting a grip, The Grip, does not save you,
THE GRIP: It has been said before. You brandish only a fork in a world of soup. Together, you will struggle and splutter through this life stabbing at the pieces of existence which might sustain us.