I am feeling the deep emotional exhaustion from years of war. A covert campaign fought with psychological artillery, evil nanotech, and bioweapons is particularly cruel. Our most intimate bonds — spouse, parent, friend — have been used to isolate those who perceive the enemy’s action, and thus refuse to follow the deadly path on offer. Economic attacks are nonstop and many of us are constantly on the financial precipice (or need rescue from tumbling off the edge). Endless exposure to death cult propaganda (and its victims) is a kind of “microtrauma” that accumulates over time to cause real mental wounds.
Courage seems to be a relative thing. You often find yourself alone on the battlefield simply because you were in the company of cowards — and they all ran away. It didn’t take any special endeavour to get to the front lines. Yet here I am, an active combatant in a keyboard militia during an bio-information war. The kinetic military are doing the “heavy lifting”, which leaves the rest of us to “hold the line” in the “ordinary” world, where plenty of deadly fighting is happening. The cultural status of “pew pew” is well above the “tap tap” of the keyboard warrior, but their tasks are qualitatively different.
It is a bit like the Vietnam veterans who, having fought in the official military war, then had to fight in an unofficial social one as scapegoats when back in the homeland. Yet for all its hardship and struggle, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Being made into a scapegoat is a purifying process, because you are forced to focus on your unyielding and uncompromising spirit. I no longer attach my identity to my fancy education, professional accolades, or “successful” friends, since they don’t define who I am. Watching the turncoats attack the scapegoat has clarified the social and moral situation, and removed all the illusions I had about both who they are — and who I am.
Better to be a scapegoat than a turncoat