The bright, clear line

One of the things that’s been kind of keeping me up at night of late (I’m not kidding, it’s 2:47am here) is the piece of this Cap!Hydra thing that we’re not talking about, or talking about much:

Steve Rogers was a certified mess. He was 4F. He couldn’t get into the Army no matter how often he tried. He was ill, he was weak, he was *disabled.*

And with absolutely all respect for my Jewish friends and their understandable anger and pain, this is part of my pain, an intersection and an overlap. It hurts me and I hope we can talk about this, too.

Because they killed the Rromany, they killed my fellow queers, and they killed so many millions of the people who I’m seeking with all my heart, but they started with people like me.

Because Franz Stangl started his career at the T-4 euthanasia program.

Because the film of T-4’s victims includes a little boy who covered his ears and flapped his hands.

Because the Commandant of Treblinka quite literally learned the means he perfected to kill Jews and Rromany en masse by starting with the autistic, the disabled, the ill, the people they deemed “mentally or physically unfit.”

Because Nazis wouldn’t have recruited Steve Rogers. They would have killed him.

He was weak. He was sick. He was unfit.

He was like me.

And when we talk about one piece, as we must, as we should, as is right, as is *just,* please don’t forget that part, too.

They started with people like me. Like pre-serum Cap. And it makes me sick to see that part of the story forgotten and wiped away, as if Steve was just a ‘bit short’ or a ‘little scrawny.’

“The 4-F classification was given primarily for muscular and bone malformations, hearing or circulatory ailments, mental deficiency or disease, hernias, and syphilis.”

He was weak. He was sick.

He was like me.

And he’s our hero, too. We’re hurting, too.

Rosa: Bernie

Amy: was planning on supporting Hillary until she found out Hillary was profiting off prison slave labor, now Bernie

Terry: Bernie

Charles: gets the flu on Election Day and, whilst high on cough syrup, accidentally does a write-in vote for Jakamy Pantialta

Gina: Herself, obviously.

Holt: Bernie

Let them all come, Clint. Let every last one of those tracksuit-wearing, sub-verbal, bullying, murderous scumbags come at us. Because you and me? Together? Together, Clint, I think you and me are the persona we both wish we could be, and I know that person. I know that person is worth something. I know that persona can… can pretty much do anything.

a movie that should really exist → Hawkeyes, starring Nyle DiMarco as Clint Barton and Arden Cho as Kate Bishop.

Like, the holidays just seem like another day.

My 16th birthday that I had been looking forward to forever was just a school day.

New episodes of my favorite show don’t get me pumped anymore.

No hunger. Like, you eat because of the pleasure of it or because you have to, but you aren’t hungry anymore.

Procastrination, even of things you like.

Feeling no sympathy for anything. You begin to question if you love something or someone at all.

Feeling like you are in a dream (depersonalization)

Having trouble sleeping. It can be nightmares, it can be difficulties falling asleep, difficulties waking up, waking up in the middle of the night, etc.

Being really tired without reason.

Intrusive thoughts (that may say that your family doesn’t love you, or that what you are feeling is completely normal, for example. It’s never true)

Not caring about your own security anymore, not because you want to die (most of the depressed people don’t want to commit suicide) but because you just forget it. You forget to look both ways before crossing, wearing your seatbelt or even you can forget about eating.

Desire of isolation. You just want to be alone, and anyone feels like a friend anymore.

This is a great way to respond to someone you love who’s all “I’M SORRY FOR GETTING MY FEELINGS ALL OVER YOU”