What More Can Be Said?

Every day I wonder why I’m here.

What am I doing? Why am I trying?

I place ridiculous expectations on myself. Often, I don’t want to write anything if I don’t think it will add something to the world in some meaningful way. That is a fucking ridiculous expectation to put on myself, and yet, there it is.

I live in perpetual fear and dread of a society that repeatedly shows me that I am soylent green for whiteness. For patriotism. For masculinity. For thin people. For every identity that occupies a higher rung of this shitty fucking societal hierarchy, I am both the nourishment and the excrement that is sanitized and reintroduced into the population to be consumed and excreted in some other form. And it never ends. Even when I am dead it will not end because something of me will still exist for someone to consume and excrete until there is nothing left. The more I look for an escape, the more hopeless I become because there is no escape and I am so fucking tired of busting my ass to escape this constant despair for even a day. Just a day. I try and try until I get tired of trying and then I’m mired under all this shit again, even more exhausted than I was before and yet still having to dig myself out.

I. Am. Tired.

So if you’re wondering why I’m not talking about all this shit with the turd in office, the election, Covid-19, the obvious capitalist maneuverings of marginalized people jockeying for power, it’s because it’s nothing new. It’s all been done. I’ve written extensively about it from my perspective,, and I hate constantly repeating myself. I live in the fucking ramifications of this mess every day and have tried to live with the depression and anxiety it causes. I take meds. I go to therapy. I don’t want to talk about this shit right now and it’s everywhere and I don’t know what to do to anymore.

I used to tell myself that I had “high functioning” anxiety. I’ve since learned that all that means is that I have a high capacity to subvert my own needs to prioritize the comfort of everyone else. It’s a shit way to live and I am trying to recognize when I do it and stop. A year ago, I would have pushed myself to keep writing, keep talking, keep trying to “change hearts and minds” but right now, I just want to want my life. I need to find the joy and center that shit firmly in my core because this shitstorm isn’t ending anytime soon. It’s still ramping up. I don’t know how it’s gonna play out but I know it will be violent regardless because violence is all those with widespread influence on this society wants to sow. My best defense is figuring out what brings me joy and living in that space, especially when it feels overwhelming and like everything is crashing on top of me.

Everything feels terrible but I’m trying to ride it out. I don’t have the illusion of control over what happens next. I am working on riding with the change in ways that are healing instead of immersing myself in the trauma of the now. It’s hard and today it has been overwhelming. I don’t know what to do anymore so I think I’m gonna try to be numb to preserve my emotional health. Sometimes, stopgaps are the best we can do and right now, that’s the best I can do.

I just wish I had better options.

Take care of yourself. This ride is terrifying and painful. Find comfort where you can. The violence of whiteness feels inescapable but try to find your stopgaps to survive. Please.

Originally published at on November 1, 2020.

Fat, Black, Femme Geek. I’m a writer & cosplayer. My blog is . My books: Breaking Normal& Still Breaking Normal