My very personal lament against the forced vaccination programme

I am fully aware that this will read like a crybaby manifesto to many, but I don’t think I am alone in saying: if I take your shot now it will only be because you have broken my spirit. In the current and upcoming dire economic circumstances, that was pretty much all I had!

All right, moral citizens of the modern world, you win. I am no longer so conceited as to consider myself a “free thinker”, for all my contrarian views and nagging doubts about everything that’s been pushed down our sore throats over the past twelve months. Maybe this whole crisis was purpose-made to uncover the real filth in society: us childish, oppositional assholes (actual quote from an acquaintance’s social media post) that need to be taught a lesson and given a good extra-hard jab in the arm. Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a conspiracy theory or anything. Just a figure of speech.

Look, what I mean to say is, I’m one of those assholes. I am hesitant about getting the vaccine, at least for the time being. My reasoning goes along the same lines as ignoring the annual flu jab – I simply don’t think I need it. As for the effect on those around me: despite ongoing uncertainty as to the amount of inoculations required to bring overall deaths back down to pre-pandemic levels, it is clear enough that that number is less than a hundred per cent. Since so many are willing to take it, what difference does it make to you if I choose to wait a little? You never gave me such a hard time for not taking the flu shot every year. This may sound crazy, but I don’t think it takes a medical degree to look after yourself: what feels necessary, and what doesn’t. Every body is different.

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#shoutyourmentalillness

The recent “epidemic” of “depression” is one of my biggest beefs with society today. People are actually gaining exposure from making whiny, longwinded articles for massive media outlets talking about their PTSD induced by overly strict parenting and schoolyard bullying. How can this be happening? When did our culture turn around and show its underbelly to the big mean world? Moaning and whimpering we flock in droves to our underpaid doctors and leech antidepressant pills out of an NHS in crisis, and then feel even more sorry for ourselves as a result because our “needs” and “desires” were not “met appropriately”.

When I myself was a moody teen, I used to wish I’d had a rougher life just so’s I could complain more legitimately. Today I see that such fantasies are no longer necessary, because now everyone’s complaint is valid and worthy not only of consideration, but thorough compensation, too. Hooray! What a shame (read: thank God) I outgrew that stage before I could exploit it.

Our middle-class first world has officially become overly comfortable. Far too full of humourless, well-off, middle-class babies are getting showered with attention for describing their “symptoms” in a semipoetic and fully public way. I think maybe this little epidemic is maybe a little touch overhyped. In fact, calling it “depression” only became fashionable about 40 years ago.

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