(no subject)
Aug. 1st, 2002 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kuangning... sometimes, I look around and I wonder where the hell I fit. Because it isn't the places where I thought I fit anymore.
It's not my idea of fun anymore to sit and watch a verbal gang rape. I remember the motivations -- I remember the feelings of superiority, of vindication. Because the target was wrong and we were doing our part to protect the world from idiocy, right? We were the elite, the best and brightest, the ones who saw clearly, and the target was inferior and thus undeserving of respect, or pity. We took aim with words, we used them like knives, and we congratulated each other on our accuracy and the obvious and the unobserved but assumed damage. Clean strokes counted, critical hits were acclaimed. We were sharks in a feeding frenzy, and each new hint of blood in the water drew renewed attacks.
And if you aren't a shark, if you don't enjoy the hunt, then you are inferior. And if you say you don't agree, then you become the next target. Well-intentioned, of course, because now you are wrong, and must be set right. With the same definition of "right" that every group uses -- agreement with the group.
I'm tired. I'm shaky and nauseous and I know that someone who ignored the warning is furious with me right now and wondering, "well, if you don't like it, if you think we're so horrible, then why don't you just leave?" And no matter how much I say that I don't think you're horrible, it's not going to make a difference. So... why don't I leave? I dunno. Because I'm still trying to hold on. I'm trying to both not lose anything more and be more of who I need to be. Right this second, it's not working. Tomorrow may be different. But, fuck, I hope not. I hope I never again think it's okay for a group to rip someone to shreds for no better reason than boredom or because we can.
It's not my idea of fun anymore to sit and watch a verbal gang rape. I remember the motivations -- I remember the feelings of superiority, of vindication. Because the target was wrong and we were doing our part to protect the world from idiocy, right? We were the elite, the best and brightest, the ones who saw clearly, and the target was inferior and thus undeserving of respect, or pity. We took aim with words, we used them like knives, and we congratulated each other on our accuracy and the obvious and the unobserved but assumed damage. Clean strokes counted, critical hits were acclaimed. We were sharks in a feeding frenzy, and each new hint of blood in the water drew renewed attacks.
And if you aren't a shark, if you don't enjoy the hunt, then you are inferior. And if you say you don't agree, then you become the next target. Well-intentioned, of course, because now you are wrong, and must be set right. With the same definition of "right" that every group uses -- agreement with the group.
I'm tired. I'm shaky and nauseous and I know that someone who ignored the warning is furious with me right now and wondering, "well, if you don't like it, if you think we're so horrible, then why don't you just leave?" And no matter how much I say that I don't think you're horrible, it's not going to make a difference. So... why don't I leave? I dunno. Because I'm still trying to hold on. I'm trying to both not lose anything more and be more of who I need to be. Right this second, it's not working. Tomorrow may be different. But, fuck, I hope not. I hope I never again think it's okay for a group to rip someone to shreds for no better reason than boredom or because we can.