The Horror of Reality

I've been wanting to write this post for a few days at least now. But words kept eluding me. I've been stuck in a dumbfounded bubble of shock and horror at what is going on out there, both beyond the borders of the UK and right here at home. For weeks- months - years, even - I've been in that bubble, trying to pierce the skin and break out with something to say.

I'm not sure if I've managed to break out even now. But I've reached a point where I have to do something with the rage and pain that is inside me. Even if it is to just type a few angry words into a blog post that will be read by … maybe a few people. Maybe no one. I don't know. But at least it's out of me. For a while.

I read and write and watch horror because I like to be scared. But it's a safe way to be scared. The adrenaline rises and you know that it's going to be okay in the end because it's not real. The adrenaline falls and you relax and go back to your normal, safe life.

But what if it's not safe any more? What happens when it is real?

It's dark outside right now and I can't see the street below my window, but I know it's there. It's quite a nice street during the day, but at night it's a street I don't feel safe walking along alone. Beyond that I know there is a town where, not too long ago, someone got stabbed to death. Beyond that, another town where someone was pushed in front of a train. Then a city where children are dying in knife attacks on a terrifyingly regular basis and terrorists have attacked with bombs and vehicles and machetes. Then, further out, a town where someone went on a rampage with a shotgun because he'd convinced himself that women were the enemy. Another town where dozens of people were poisoned because some powerful people wanted one man dead. And ruling it all is a government that allowed millions of us to sicken and die before they would open their coffers and act to keep us safe. Who blame horrific attacks on the victims instead of the perpetrators. Who constantly blame their own failures and shortcomings on immigrants and poor people and lie through their teeth to the people they are supposed to serve, but instead use to keep themselves rich and powerful.

Cross the water in any direction you like. There's a country where someone mowed down partygoers with a van. Where someone else went into a gay bar with a gun. Where children and churchgoers and lovers and cinema-goers are dying day after day - sometimes at the hands of people not far off being children themselves - and the government refuses to take away their guns because a few powerful people say no. Where that same government allows state officials to tell women that they are not allowed autonomy over their own bodies. Where millions of people live in fear for their lives every day simply because their skin is darker.

It's horrible out there. It's horrifying. Give me make-believe horror any day. That stuff has rules. I understand it. I know where it's going to go and that even if it doesn't turn out alright in the end, it will at least end. Let me write you some monstrous, incomprehensible horror that is a million times worse than what's going on outside because then maybe we can pretend that it's not so bad out there, right?

No. It is bad out there. Maybe not the worst it's ever been, but it's bad. Really bad. And you should look. And you should be afraid. Because then you might get angry. And you might shout and make your voice heard.

Make your voice heard any way you can. Protest. Rant and rave over social media. Write to your MP or government official. Spray graffiti. Sing angry music. Wave signs. Sign petitions. Give to charities that help the people most affected by the injustices you see. Pick a cause and champion it. Write furious articles for blogs or newspapers, or (like me) thinly veiled fiction that criticises and shames the way things are. Do whatever you can. Because no matter how small an act it is, it's better than doing nothing. Because those people in power, the ones ignoring us and using us and getting rich off our pain and misery, they're betting on us doing nothing.

If I might paraphrase a favourite band of mine whose most recent album is full of the rage and indignation, frustration and fear that I and many others are feeling right now:

"These aren't just words on a page - These are the weapons of rebirth."*

Don't underestimate the little that you can do. It might just be the pebble that starts a landslide. If you'd prefer a literary quote, how about this classic:

"'Even the smallest person can change the course of history." - J.R.R. Tolkien.

Pick up your weapons, people. Whatever they are, pick them up. And FIGHT.

(*By the way, the band is Motionless in White and the album is 'Scoring the End of the World').