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When the law decides you no longer exist, freedom isn’t about where you live.

It’s about how far you’re willing to lose yourself to survive.

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Getting Marked – Freedom at a cost

What if you belonged to a group that the government suddenly decided was a problem?

Not because of anything you did. Not because of a crime. Not even because of your beliefs. You were placed quietly and without your knowledge. The current leaders decided that the category was “unjust.”

Illegal.

It didn’t matter that you’d lived here your whole life. That your parents and grandparents had, too. It didn’t matter your race, your sex, your creed, your record. None of that mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was that you had been identified.

The rules you thought protected you suddenly didn’t apply.

Your home wasn’t yours. Your job will vanish with a keystroke. The bank will empty your account without notice. You weren’t even a “person” anymore, not in the legal sense described by the Constitution you once believed in.

It happened so fast you couldn’t trace the moment when it began. At first, it was a news story about “reforms.” Then, “temporary measures.” Then, new identification cards, “to streamline services.” People told themselves it was nothing — until the cards became color-coded. Until the colors meant everything.

Now the world feels smaller every day. Friends stop calling, not because they don’t care, but because they’re afraid to be seen caring. Even strangers look at you differently, as if they’re silently choosing whether to turn away or turn you in.

You start making plans. Options. But they’re illusions. Leave the country? Borders are closed to you. Fight back? With what? Every avenue seems to end at the same locked door.

Then one night, in the quiet of your apartment, you find a letter slipped under your door. No name. No return location. Just a single sentence:

“There’s a way out, but you can’t take anything with you.”

Your heart pounds. Hope flares in your chest — real, breathing hope for the first time in months. You imagine stepping across a border, leaving all this behind, starting over somewhere no one knows your name.

But then the weight comes crashing back. You can’t take anything with you. Not your family, if they’re marked. Not your home. Not even the history that made you who you are.

The choice is yours. Stay and lose everything slowly, or leave and lose it all at once.

It’s hope. And it’s despair.

And tonight, both feel exactly the same.

Will you let this country get to this point? Is the United States already there? Is it too late to turn around?

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025