Wednesday, March 30, 2016

I wil fall, but I will not lie down

People like you are killing people like me.
That sounds like a pretty overdramatic statement. And in a way, it is.
Every day, I wake up in a studio apartment and hate myself because I live on government assistance. I'd be in school, but I've been running around the country trying to find an area with affordable living, good public transportation, a good college and a well-oiled support system. I've been doing this for four years now. I've been in three states, and this will be the seventh time I've moved since mid 2012. Each time, I leave almost everything behind. I own no furniture. I have only ever owned two pieces of furniture. I am infinitely grateful for the goodwill of other people who looked at me and saw someone who still had a chance, instead of a worthless piece of trash.
I watched my ex submit his resume hundreds of times. He had a business degree and prior work experience, with glowing recommendations. He only ever got one response, from someone who wanted to give him the graveyard shift, which would have required him to live a life with almost no family contact or social interaction. The only reason he went through this is because he is blind. Of course, it's illegal to discriminate, but all they need to do is cite some other reason. They can even invent one. It doesn't matter. Discrimination laws have barely put a dent in the practice. And they never will, because humans are human. I've had six different career ideas rejected outright by rehab departments simply because they didn't want to take chances on a blind person. And in comparison, my experience has been an easy ride.
But that isn't to say I've given up. If I had given up, I would have stopped moving. I would have laid down and died in some rundown studio somewhere. I haven't, and I won't.
If I ever put on a pair of headphones, all I hear is a monotone electronic voice rolling out a constant stream of bad news, hatred and condemnation with less inflection than you would give a comment about the weather. If anyone dares to show support for another living thing, or share a survival experience, the internet immediately piles on them in an attempt to destroy them. Because support is bad,help is bad, survival is bad, progress is bad, healing is bad.
But I am going to be here, because these things are not bad. I am going to wake up every day. I am going to make this decision consciously every time I go to sleep. I am going to think of the millions of abused people and creatures in the world and swear to be there for them in every capacity I can. I will resist the mentality the internet perpetuates with every fiber of my being until there are none left. I will not be extinguished, I refuse to be, not until someone does it forcefully or natural causes do me in.
Of course, I know that if this is ever seen, it will be attacked with the same fervor that any similar statement receives. People don't like it when their motivations are so easily discovered. They don't like it when they are transparent. Deep down, most people who became terrible weren't always so. Often, harsh reactions come because people do not want to admit to what they are doing and why. Many humans would ruin the things they love before admitting they're wrong, let alone things they don't have any attachment to.
But there are plenty who don't. They stay quiet, intimidated by the loud noises. They huddle in the corners of their mental confinement, whether self imposed or not, dying for just one supportive touch, but too afraid to speak out. There are people who are genuinely proud when they reduce humans or other creatures to such lows. But there are people who are proud to build your confidence and strength back up. There are people who are proud to love, proud to fight, proud to stand up.
We can't rescue everyone, human or nonhuman, from their predicaments. But we can hold a hand out to all of them. We can sit beside you in companionable silence. We can offer moral support. We can love you intensely, and we are not afraid to show it.
I've fallen down more than a few times, been pushed down often. But every time, I've gotten up. To those we can't save, we offer the safety of a presence that will not attempt to alienate or manipulate you. Some humans are too broken to hear this, and nonhumans can't understand what we're saying.
But if I could tell the world one thing and be certain it would be understood, it would be this:
For those who have no place in this world, and for those who are still looking,
I am here. Unconditionally. I might fall, but I will not lie down.

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