Something To Fight For
Alexander Gordon Jahans
I lost. Everything. I failed on so many fronts in so short a time and those scars are going to take a long time to heal.
It is so tempting to remain in my war time mentality. To keep seeing shadows at my door. To focus on the rage and the betrayal. To be the man caught between radical trans feminists and nazi trolls. As if a man so broken and so low is anything but a trivial distraction. Even at my worst, when my bile boils over and I write a take that, the queens of the safe space can take one look at my name on the top and cast it aside without a second’s consideration.
What I have to do is hard. I have to trust people, trust in my ability to read them and play to them. I have to lie. I have to plan. I have to wield the darkness of my soul like a weapon so I might survive, so I might live, so I might be of use to those radical trans feminists.
Because no matter how much I hurt, no matter how much my hatred burns I would never not stand in defence of those people. They may not need me, they may not need me, they may despise me as much as the darkest parts of my soul now despise them but I will always be the man fighting for the genuinely persecuted, even if they then decide to stab me in the back afterwards.
Except that sentence right there is part of what’s plaguing me. My mind is a rational construct. I am as clockwork as the capitalism I dream of restoring. I know people who aren’t. Who believe in True Love and are driven by their emotions. My emotions are powerful. My hatred, my rage, my lust, these are fierce-some things but I keep them separate for that reason. I will not allow myself to be self destructive if I do not rationally believe I should die but if I can tell myself a story of why this self destructive behaviour is allowed then it can be done.
It’s like I used to think as a kid that if you are going to commit suicide there are worse things to do than death by smoking because it gives you plenty of time to change your mind. Now I find reasons to justify gorging myself on food, missing universal credit meetings and drive the people close to me away. I never believe I am being self destructive and maybe sometimes I’m not. Sometimes a sandwich is just a sandwich and not a loaded gun being desperately fired but I can see the patterns and some things are not subtle.
I must record a video on autims and nazis and get blind drunk doing so. I must have the Farsh-nuke torture then forcibly change the gender of a trans person. I must rewrite the wretched fanfic despite the fact I’ve now incorporated the events of the original into the wider lore. I must There’s always a logical explanation but even I cannot ignore so many red flags I am sending out.
I am so scared because I failed so much and while I have many many friends there are none I trust to call me on my bullshit. The people I might have were so busy getting involved in forum politics that we had to part ways. I don’t have anybody to stop me. Not before it got too far.
Yes I’m scared of failing again, of upsetting people with broken dreams and shattered hopes, scared of going back to square one but at this point I am far more scared of the possibility that I might succeed, that I might win and I might turn out to be a villain. I mean when someone you regard as a friend leaves your life crying that you aren’t safe to be around then yeah that gives one pause for thought but it has been three years now and I don’t want to die anymore.
I have bad days and I will have bad days for a long time to come because I live with someone who is an anxiety machine and another who is a rage beast. There will be bad days and they will suck but they will pass.
The brain is a muscle and muscles heal. I will get better, I am a lot better. I am starting to get back up off the matt and I am starting to plan again. I have a goal to lurch towards beyond survival, beyond capitalistic dreams.
The pain in my feet does not bother me so much anymore. I am getting used to it. I am getting fitter. The terror of Neoliberals is being fought against in Britain. Jeremy Corbyn is changing the Labour party and restoring democracy to Britain. I am shaving every day now and I am starting to shower more regularly again. I just completed the Thieves Guild quest line of Skyrim including No Stone Unturned. I’m still writing. The Farsh-nuke is back but I have other characters to tell more socially progressive stories as well.
You know when I first discovered Doctor Who I was drawn to the seventh Doctor, to the angsty manipulator, a chess master on a thousand boards. I am not that. I am a lurcher stumbling in the dark but now I know what I want to lurch towards and as I’m learning I am dodging bullets and spinning plates. The truth is that I have already achieved my victory over the nazis plaguing my life. I played the long game and while some of them still think they are relevant they are the level one draugr and bandits pestering you in daedric gear if you play Skyrim. I have defeated the bullies once again and now I am ready to turn my attrention toewards long term objectives.
I have something to fight for now. My best has always been typified by this. And yeah once I get what I want I am invariably dissappointed but that’s not important, not really. What is is that I now I have a macguffin to turn my attention towards. And I have been playing so many more games, watching so many more shows. I am so much wiser.
I am not as strong as I used to be. Not mentally, not yet. And I know that such an admission of weakness will have impotent foes slamming their hardest against what they percieve as my weakness but I don’t care. There are monsters in the world, it is true but I no longer walk in fear of them because I trust that when the shit hits the fan I will survive.
To the fight to come. To the victory. To the shattered and dissappointing dreams when I do.