How do you keep pretending that life is wonderful when there’s nothing but shades of grey and darkness surrounding you. Everywhere you look, evil reins, angry insults are hurled, sadness prospers.
Here I am, sitting at my desk. My room is warmed by the heater set to it’s lowest setting. There’s only one light illuminating my work area beside the brightness of my computer screen. My toes are freezing, my fingers are stiff. I live in the greatest country on earth. The richest nation, where dreams are made, opportunities are abound. Yet, I’m fearful that I won’t have enough money from my paycheck to turn on another light. To set the heater to a modest temperature. I live in near poverty, and despite all I’ve described, I’m fairly privileged.
I have a stable job. It pays my rent, and my bus pass, with just a little left over at the end of each month. My partner, she used to receive disability. But that’s now been confiscated. And the burden of all the bills now fall onto me. I’ve tried looking for other employment, as have many, many other people. I too have been ghosted by employers. Those whom have actually responded to my inquiries, often slam their door in my face because I share a status among our President-Elect. I’ve attempted to raise income using alternative methods. Online platforms, such as Patreon, donations, and yes, SubStack, yet, it seems that what I have an interest to write about, isn’t worthy of financial compensation.
I gaze towards the horizon, of the darkness that is quickly devouring the landscape. As a trans-person, I fear that, despite living in a well insulated Blue State, my life may be in danger. Certainly my medical care is in jeopardy. I see despair. People crying. Talks about suicide echo as whispers in the breeze. Neighbors are broke financially, and families are broken. As a society we have instant communication in the palm of our hands, that we carry around in our pockets all day long, however, loneliness is an epidemic in this Land. We have access to super computers, and instant information, yet, people continue to do things considered stupid. And my favorite thing about this realm, I yearn for a solution towards my own depression. Yup, we have a pill for that— but, only if you can afford it.
The last ten years of my life, I feel that I’ve made tremendous strides in self-confidence. My self-esteem has hit the stratosphere. But with a single election, knowing the choice between democracy and dictatorship, the majority of people in this kingdom chose the latter. They were lied to. Misinformed. Gaslit. Propaganda, the weaponized use of information had the desired effect. People voted against their own self-interests. And now, everybody is going to pay for that stupidity. My confidence doesn’t matter anymore. People have spoken. They don’t want me to exist anymore. They don’t care about personal liberties and freedoms of expression. So much hate is everywhere. My heart hurts inside my chest. The only thing that matters is that the price of eggs goes back down to what it was years ago.
I’m the problem.
I carry a knife for protection. And to be honest, some days, I think of unsheathing that cold steel, so that it can taste my blood. Everyday that passes, the more light that fades, the stronger those voices become. I fear that someday soon, when denied my hormone therapy, that old violent lust will pay me a visit again. Last time it came, I wasn’t angry. But now I am. And I am the problem. Apparently. And sure, there’s programs and people who may be able to rescue me. But can I afford it?
No. I can not.
So I do the only thing I’m capable of doing right now. I keep walking. I keep going to my job. I keep plastering a smile on my face. I do my occupation. At least that distracts me from my head. One foot in front of the other.
And while I do that, wealthy pricks continue to dismantle this once magical land that I was born into. Robbing from everybody in the process. Performing criminal acts en-masse. But yet, I’m the problem. I’ve always been the problem. Maybe I should just identify as a problem. And quit.
The struggle is real and this piece shows a vulnerability many have. You're closer to being the solution than the problem though. People need to understand that identities can be fluid. We accept it among actors and entertainers, but it's a privilege still denied to commoners.
You're just ahead of your time. You're from a society that doesn't judge by covers and we're just not there yet. We've got a lot of dumb people dragging the averages down, you know?