# Work

By [com_decor](https://paragraph.com/@comdecor) · 2021-11-15

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I did not think of working for a good life. I never expected to _have_ to work. To have to. For there to be this constant need to work and try. The decisions, the responsibility. And the way I live, have always lived, I look forward to passivity. I only work in an effort to gain passivity. I am passive. I am not a worker. And I don’t mean the kind of work that people hate, at least not only that. I never expected to ever work. My ideal was passivity. Is passivity.

I am slowly beginning to realize that in order to live a decent life I have to work. I think most would say, “Yeah, no shit”. Perhaps many would say it, I think for many the default perspective is becoming what I just described, it is becoming a conception of life that does not rest work.

I can hardly define what I mean by work. A life of activity, of having tasks and goals and working towards them. Not alone. A life that is not alone and not separate from the world. Work as the gateway to reality. Sounds dramatic. All I mean is work as a way out of my head, out of fantasy, and into the real world.

Work as something like surviving use to be. What I do now is surviving, and this is passivity. With our abundance survival is now passivity. Taking the easy path, accepting mediocrity and the bare minimum is surviving. I survive and I am miserable and I do it pretty easily, except for the misery. Survival wasn’t always like this. What I mean by work is the old school survival, when something was at stake, there was risk, because you wanted to live, you wanted to succeed.

Work, then, as wanting. More. Valuing. Work as an expression of value. I never valued strongly enough. I am beginning to value and this is leading to a confrontation with the need for work.

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*Originally published on [com_decor](https://paragraph.com/@comdecor/work)*