I don’t believe in being helpless.
I have never, (at least not in my memory. I don’t count being knockedout, or knocked down, because I speak not only physical reality, but also the mind and spirit), considered myself “helpless.”
Further, there are situations that can only be handled by the individual, because there is no one there to help you out.
It’s still an interesting life I have, but I miss not having a community of people like myself.
I guess that’s why I may be moving to Europe.
As far as I know, there are no sexual spiritualists,
no people that identify themselves outside of their religion or race, or social class.
I live in a community of gay folk who look at me as a sexual curiosity or worse.
I live in a country where white people, especially those in police uniforms, can kill me as if I were a game animal.
And my growing sense of honor says I can’t stay in a country that I often desire to burn to ground.
Too many people have died for me to simply act like “normal.”
So as long as I stay in this country, I’m still at war with it and it’s people.
My people, (yeah, that is a definite contradictory statement. The way of the world….)
I’m fortunate though: words are my only weapons.
Liferaft in the Abyss 