A Tumblr user asked:
What are your current motivations for blogging and speaking so relentlessly?
I seethe. I’m tired of seeing disproportionate sentences handed out to my brethren. I’m angry at the stigma that I face for not possessing affective empathy. I curse this existence that seems so monochrome, so shallow. I head into the fire, ready to advance my cause. Our cause. My cause. Our cause. My cause. My cause. There are countless others that fight for what they believe in for relatively inconsequential gain for inconsequential people. Where are the autistics that should be allied with us? How about the queer? How about the dirty? No, this is a fight that is fought on a singular front. There are no allies. There are no armies. There are only the tiniest handful of motivated individuals willing to put their standing on the line. Their cause. My cause. Their cause. My cause. My cause. I see the resemblance in us all, but ultimately megalomania dictates that I fight for myself and myself alone. No one else is coming along for the ride. Head into the fire.
Pity is not the reaction I want from others. Pity is as worthless as the empathy that drives such an emotion. What I want is for others to be captives, forced to hear my kind out if only for the briefest of moments. Many of us are monsters. A non-trivial number of us are more complicated. We are somewhere in the gray area of the continuum of morality. Neither moral or immoral, we are the perfect opportunists. Able to do good just as easily as doing wrong, we are the ones truly without voices. Who will stand up for those who have no alliances? No one.
I cannot think of another demographic that can do no harm yet receive no support. Hell, even the most deviant of fetishists are allied with someone so long as they do not act. Maybe “doing no harm” is incorrect. The overwhelming majority of us have some sort of sordid past. Who knows if these pasts would be guaranteed to become presents and futures if the mental health industry would treat us. Instead, as on all other fronts, they shut their doors, lock their bolts, and throw away the keys. Our cause. My cause. Our cause. My cause. My cause. Ultimately I want a better future for me. I want to know that possible paths exist in which I am labeled human rather than monstrosity. I want to know that 77% – the percentage of psychopaths that are in prison – does not equal the whole. To that end, I’m not going anywhere soon. I’ve got a job to do. And so I head into the fire once again.