Superhero Complex

I shift between feeling that I am responsible for my world, the world, and feeling like there is no way I can be. I feel like I am on some quest of sorts, like Joan of Arc trying to lead the French to freedom. I feel like I was touched with something, some great hope and understanding to the accessibility of freedom, and I am trying to rally my fellow humans into fighting for their own liberation.

I get on my horse, I battle cry, I hear a few bellows and cheers behind me, and I look back after galloping forward to see my men arguing over syntax, talking about the laces in their boots, complimenting each other, and complaining about how oppressed they are.

I go back, I circle around, and now I feel maybe it is too much to expect them all to fight. Perhaps only a few can. I look for those who are not satisfied by the conversations, who seem restless to go again. I put that one person on the back of my horse, (that is all that can fit) and go forward again. I feel renewed. We have camaraderie, a connection, strong will. So maybe the rest of them are behind, but I am not alone, there is this one with me. I’ll show him, and he can then go back, he can tell the others. The two of us will cause a chain reaction, the inspiration will spread. Freedom will seem, once again, accessible, and there will be hope for them all to run forward again.

Oh, but the man on my horse, he loves the ride, but wants me to do all the work, he wants to peak over my shoulder, feel safe behind my armor. He is completely unaware that his back is completely exposed the whole time, where his eyes cannot see. His hands will clamor, restrict my arms, and I begin to see and know that I am hindered by the person’s presence, and that his weight makes it so I can do less for both of us- and me.

I let him off the horse. I go ahead. He is scared, out in the middle of the battle field, between the collections of men, and the place where the action is occurring. He either chooses to go back, waits, or decides to go forward on his own accord.

Where are the women? The women are too busy fighting with each other for the attention of the men, to even care about the other battles going on. They have every strength and capability, but they have two gates holding them in place instead of one. The people I am fighting put it there, the men reinforce it, and the women, mostly, stay inside.

Maybe I should just go forward, alone. But what am I fighting for if there is no one to share it with? How can I forget them all? I can’t.

I consider what happens if we all succeed. I am the loudest. They’ll burn me at the stake.

But being alone with my mind, and what I know, feels like a great irresponsibility, both to myself and them.

Where are the other Horseback riders? Why can’t we fight for all of our revolutions at once?