I'm a white man in the UK, and...
I feel so overwhelmingly exhausted it might kill me. I don't want it to kill me. I don't plan on hurting myself or others. I need advice protecting my mind. I need help getting back my energy and ability to enjoy things. If I rest, or try to enjoy anything ever, I feel guilty because I'm not doing anything to help my people survive oppression. It hurts.
When I try to write, it feels impossible to write anything good. Last time I wrote about how much it sucks to live in this regularly bombed dystopian nightmare of a country at constant war, cunts on the internet mocked and harassed me for threatening the lies their regimes told. They demonised me without restraint or mercy. Even mocked me for having a heart condition and being a cancer survivor. My assumption that everyone's human deep down and will be good in places where it's safe to express that humanity was proven false. It feels impossible to convince anyone we're people who don't deserve to be killed and humiliated and wiped out and spat upon. It feels impossible to write anything where we're allowed to exist freely. Fictional worlds where we can be good to one another without our enemies killing us feel as impossible to believe in as worlds where we fight back and win. And when I try writing fiction that isn't about my people, and I try writing fiction about fictional characters I like, it feels like I'm betraying my people. Fiddling while Rome burns.
