I’m not ok right now. I haven’t been ok for a long time and maybe I never was. Between mental illnesses that have never been diagnosed or treated, anxiety that dismantles pretty much all the good things I have in my life, and overwhelming empathy that makes me sob nearly every day when I read about animals being slaughtered for unnecessary human consumption, or trans women of color being murdered because masculinity is so fucking fragile, or Black and Latinx people being systematically attacked by the same organization that lies through its teeth when it swears it’s there for them.
I don’t want to focus on all the bad things because that won’t get me anywhere, but seriously I just don’t know how to deal anymore. I’m sick of crying every day. I’m sick of demons disguised as human beings. I’m sick of men. I’m sick of social media. I’m sick of people not knowing how to mind their own business and keep their mouths shut. People out here swear the planet revolves around them and that their opinions and ideologies are so special and unique that everyone else should follow them when they read NOTHING, watch NOTHING, and explore NOTHING outside their ignorant little bubbles. The reality is that none of us matter. The planet revolves with us on it and will continue to do so long after we’re gone.
Yet people out here have decided that human beings are the rulers of the universe and that any and all life aside from ourselves is designed solely for merciless consumption. The universe, coincidence, God, or whatever, apparently decided that humans were the center of everything and that we deserve everything. We treat animals as objects and condemn them to short lives with not a moment of love, peace, or tenderness. We cut their lives short because weak, selfish, greedy people want to eat exactly what they want to eat and nobody can tell them otherwise. They can’t tell you why animals deserve to die for them and they’ll avoid the question like the plague because ultimately they have to lie to themselves because ignorance is bliss. There are some people who proudly own up to killing and eating animals and I like to refer to those people as psychos with little dicks because clearly you gotta feel powerful by killing something beneath your evolutionary level, with advanced weapons, because you don’t feel so strong yourself. And they’re probably completely insane with a gross ego. That too.
People like to paint radicals like me out to be mean and emotional and aggressive and vicious, as if I’m not living in a society that shoves its beliefs down my throat every day, as if meat-eating is not the norm, as if heterosexual, cisgendered, white, Christian, and able-bodied are not treated as the beautiful norms. It’s ludicrous to me that someone could ever think that caring about living beings, of all species, ages, races, genders, sexualities, religions, and abilities as weakness or as over the top. You hear phrases like PC Culture and Social Justice Warrior because humanity has become so disgustingly warped that hate and fear are the defaults while love and trust are magics we only genuinely share with maybe a handful of people in our lifetime.
We let institutions and governments manipulate our fear to line their pockets, while they make us fight one another. All around them pain and death and they never even have to get their hands dirty. They empower societal norms that they make us believe are natural when in truth they’re as manufactured as the products we get from China. I stand by my belief that the people who do these things, people who make the world a more terrible place, the hands behind the scenes, are not human. How could real human beings do the things that they do? How can people be so ignorant to human suffering?
I’ve been falling apart lately, wondering how I can live my life happily in a world where suffering is an inescapable, ever-present, ever-dominant circumstance. I don’t have the answer yet. Mostly, I watch videos, read stories, I cry, and I make donations to organizations at 2:00 in the morning. I call my partner because I don’t know what else to do. I selfishly throw my pain on him because I don’t think anyone else really cares to hear from me, because I know people see my writing, see my posts, and they keep scrolling, or they hide me altogether. I get more support from strangers I’ve never met.
I know I’m not special and I know my pain doesn’t compare. I don’t want sympathy. I’m not trying to be deep. I’m just trying to figure out what to do. I’m trying to keep from drowning in anger, sadness, and pain. I want to help people but I can barely help myself. There’s so much to do and I want to help everyone. I want my life to mean something. But my body and my mind sabotage me every step of the way.
For now, all I can do is take solace in my kitten, my partner, TV show binge sessions, sleep, and food. I don’t think this is rock bottom but it’s pretty low. Oddly enough, my freelance writing has been going really well. In fact, I have more consistent, amazing gigs than ever. But I’m a wreck. I don’t know how to be happy for myself while people suffer. I don’t know how to enjoy myself when other people are denied even the most basic opportunities. I don’t know how to talk about my feelings without sounding like a privileged whiner.
I don’t know if this post means anything or if I should be posting it at all. But at the very least, I’m talking about and that’s worth something I think.