“That just sounds like slavery with extra steps.”
— Morty Smith, Rick and Morty, Season 2, Episode 6, The Ricks Must Be Crazy (2015)
Shelter is mandatory.
Payment is mandatory.
Everything else is noise.
We pay every month.
We pay or we leave.
The house stays the same.
The lock stays the same.
The ledger changes.
Our hours go in.
Someone else’s equity comes out.
They call it rent.
They call it access.
Names do not change outcomes.
Miss rent and we lose shelter.
Miss a mortgage and they get time.
Power is who gets time.
They call it flexibility.
We can leave.
We can be removed.
Leaving resets nothing.
They call it risk.
We risk eviction.
They risk returns.
Only one grows.
Prices rise and we pay more.
Prices fall and we still pay.
We never build.
They say we cannot buy.
Because we rent.
We rent because we cannot buy.
That loop tightens.
If payment builds equity, it is investment.
If it does not, it is extraction.
We fund the asset.
We do not own it.
Our labour becomes equity.
Just not ours.
That is not housing.
That is survival with a monthly fee.
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Changelog
We switched the voice from “you” to “we.”
Not to soften anything.
Not to be polite.
“You” sounded like an accusation.
Like a finger.
Like a fight someone could dodge by saying, not me.
That wasn’t the point.
“We” admits participation.
Even when it’s unwilling.
Even when it benefits us.
Even when we pretend it doesn’t.
This isn’t a confession.
It’s a diagnosis.
Nothing else moved.
No claims changed.
No math changed.
No conclusions changed.
Same structure.
Same outcomes.
Only the voice changed.
So the argument couldn’t be shrugged off as personal.
Clearer.
Fairer.
Harder to escape.