This article appears in the December 2025 issue of The American Prospect magazine. Subscribe here.
Dear Capitalism (if I can even call you that anymore),
I am writing to you via your AI assistant because apparently you can’t be bothered to answer your emails. Still, I hope this reaches you. I need to tell you that I have had enough. I just can’t be in this relationship anymore. After years of promising to change, swearing that you’re working on it, your behavior has only gotten worse. You are toxic.
You’re more interested in staying out late with Oprah and Bill Gates at Kris Jenner’s birthday party than being by my side when I get sick. When my landlord evicted me from my house for having an “unapproved dog,” you were in outer space. Literally you werein space, joyriding on a rocket with Katy Perry and Gayle King.
When we first started dating, things were so promising. Sure, there were red flags. You stepped ON a homeless person on our first date, but you also got me a Tiffany necklace, so I overlooked that. You swore that my college degree that cost me $20,000 of debt would help me in the professional world. Then the Great Recession happened and I started working at Jamba Juice. When my colleagues and I wanted to form a union, you told me that you were my family and families don’t form alliances against one another. I believed you.
Even when I’ve given you so much, you turn around and treat me like garbage. When I finally got a desk job at an office management consultant, I worked my butt off quarter after quarter. Our bosses were so pleased that we were meeting every goal, they purchased another consultant company. And then I was let go, because someone there had the same job as me.
When I tried to leave you before, you gaslit me. You told me we could be casual, that we could have an open relationship. You said I could drive for Uber, DoorDash, and Instacart and that being economically polyamorous would give me the freedom and flexibility to be my own boss. But now I spend all day in my car and I still can’t afford health care. You’re a liar.
I’m not saying the relationship was all bad. We’ve had good times. I remember when I won $37 on an Addams Family slot machine in Las Vegas and bought a single drink. That was cool. And in high school, when I saved up my allowance to buy my first pair of UGG boots and Popular Jessica complimented me.
But now, even the fun things we used to do like a concert or a vacation aren’t fun anymore because of all the hidden extra fees. Even if we stay home to rent a movie, you charge me $20, when I’m already paying you $10 a month for your streaming service. And I only get 48 hours to watch it?! Your love is withholding, and always conditional.
I’m older now and this relationship has become tiresome. You have refused therapy time and again, even when it’s court-mandated. You simply blame our problems on me not working hard enough when every year I work more and more hours. You only change your behavior when you get caught cheating by the FTC.
Look, I like you. You have cute handbags and jackets. And maybe in another lifetime we could’ve made it work. But I only have so many years left to live, and I refuse to spend them on the phone with your customer service haggling over a hidden clause in the agreement you made me sign so I could play a phone game.
Lately, I’ve been spending more time with Democratic Socialism. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I hope that you can be happy for me. They make me want to be a better person. I know you think they’re extreme, but there’s nothing radical about health care for all people in the richest country in the world. There’s nothing extreme about the extremely wealthy paying their fair share in taxes.
Anyway, please give my best to your parents, Feudalism and Slavery. And who knows, maybe we’ll see one another on the street one day.
Take care,
This article appears in Dec 2025 Issue.