No, babycakes, The Revolution doesn't really give a fuck about you. Its interest in you begins and ends with what you can offer, and when you're done you'll be discarded and probably labeled a traitor to the cause, or just "burn out" if you're lucky. The Revolution doesn't give two shits about your mental health, and the path it sends you down will undoubtedly shake you to your core.
The Revolution doesn't have time for nice people, because nice people don't get shit done and The Revolution only cares about getting shit done. You do not get to be a nice person if you want to stay and fight. There are no good guys in the trenches, only our bastards and theirs. The Revolution will make you a bad person, and it won't put you back together after.
Don't cry, babycakes. Don't cry where the others can see you. The new recruits don't know yet, and The Revolution needs them bright eyed and full of ideals when they head out to the front lines. Sure, they'll be back here in six months after their tour, carrying with them the memories of good men and women dead or imprisoned before their time, lost to the world. They'll cringe when they watch the news, because they know people there, and they knew more people there once. Because it's where their friends went to play medic in a war zone. Because it's where they used your images to protest climate change before the typhoon hit. Because that's where their friends went to jail, and that's the bitch who sent them there. You can't break them yet, they'll break on their own soon enough.
I'm sorry, babycakes. I wish things were different. But The Revolution needs warm bodies, and it doesn't have the resources to care.
