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I have anarchy-mom. I can tell you a story:
"There was a new woman on the edge of the village, and although she was slightly obese, dirty and didn't walk very well, she could always be seen cheerfully going about her business. The villagers thought she was a freak and talked about it: "I heard that she had many animals and children in her house from nowhere." "How suspicious... a sow?" "Nervous." But the women live only in their own little world and never care about these villagers' gossip. If she does have something strange about her, it's probably her flood of motherhood - an overabundance of energy to nurture and reproduce. She loved to collect seeds, whether they were from men, animals or plants, a thing that to her was akin to a Goblin greedily collecting treasure, and when she darted home with a smile on her face, she would try to impregnate herself with them. You could say she was a total conception freak. A terrible woman, but she was also a bit cute when she was crazy. She doted on each of her children to the extreme, and despite the fact that some of them looked a bit peculiar, the child with one horn, the child with one eye, the child with physical deformities, and the child with poisoned needles ...... , she loved her children. Until one day when her children were playing outside, those terrified villagers finally recognized the seriousness of the problem. They decided to burn down the woman's strange and eccentric "nest". Some of the children were burned to death, while others were carried or pulled by the woman, who was covered in fire and emitting strange screams, and fled to the forest. Later, the villagers said that since that night, their village has never been peaceful again. "

I just want to say that monsters have unique fun.
“ un monstre gai vaut mieux
qu'un sentimental ennuyeux. ”
That's how the world works. The more you know the more you come to a desert where there are only the condemned and the exiled. Wait for death, or save yourself? You're a piece of junk, no one will care about you. The decision is yours, whether to hum a song out of tune with a tattered voice or to go to annihilation in silence? In this broken endgame, even the spirits of hatred can do nothing, only darkness rises from all around. Sing, your lonely song, write, draw, paint your cruel story. That is your joy, no matter how morbid it is, it is your waltz.
D&G had written a wonderful chapter on iterations as a way for children to masturbate in the dark. There is always a lot of room for imagination in the childhood of the becoming world.

On the other hand, if anarchists are atheistic, what can constitute faith? If the continuity of the self does not exist, then would not people be in a crisis of faith? Or for the anarchist movement, as Shawn P. Wilbur once referred to Theseus' ship, is there a unity between the new and the old?
So this whole thing is like the Hollow Knight. Maybe one is destined to die out, but there will be a Hollow Knight in motion there. I think that's what Schopenhauer to Nietzsche and Stirner is trying to say. The anarchist movement presents itself as a happy monster if it doesn't have a continuity of self. Even though the story is tragic, it is joyful.
Life and its will constitute a whole new kind of faith: Overman.