Just Random Crap

Lately I have been thinking about why Aleksander has always remained so different to me from most characters, and why my thoughts about him so often return to the history of the Second World War specifically.

Part of it comes from the way war on that scale exposed something deeply uncomfortable about what prolonged fear does to the human mind. Not simply cruelty itself, because cruelty has existed throughout all of history, but the way survival gradually reshapes a person until the individual who emerges afterward no longer relates to the world in the same way they once did.

The Second World War left behind millions of people carrying psychological wounds that at the time barely had language attached to them. PTSD as we understand it today was not widely recognized. Many survivors spent decades living with symptoms nobody properly understood. Soldiers returned home unable to sleep because their nervous systems remained trapped in permanent anticipation of danger. Some became emotionally detached from their own families because emotional closeness itself had started to feel unbearable after years of suppressing grief and fear. Others developed obsessive control over their surroundings because unpredictability had once meant death. Entire generations learned how to survive, but survival and healing are not the same thing. Aleksander is one of the few characters who genuinely reflects that kind of psychological deterioration.

What makes him linger in my mind is the exhaustion underneath it all, the feeling that he has existed inside survival for so long that survival itself has become inseparable from the structure of his personality. When I look at Aleksander through a historical lens, especially through the lens of twentieth century war trauma, he begins to resemble people whose minds adapted to violence so completely that they eventually struggled to imagine lasting safety at all.

Many people who survived prolonged occupation, bombings and military violence carried permanent hypervigilance for the rest of their lives. Ordinary sounds triggered panic because the body no longer distinguished between present safety and past danger. Emotional distance became instinctive because attachment had become associated with grief and loss. There were survivors who later admitted they no longer recognized themselves emotionally after the war ended, because years spent existing inside terror had fundamentally altered the way they interacted with humanity itself.

Aleksander reflects that same kind of erosion stretched across centuries, because there is something deeply tragic to me about a person who has spent so long expecting persecution and destruction that fear eventually becomes intertwined with love itself. Protection begins transforming into control because control appears safer than trust. Emotional restraint begins resembling strength because vulnerability has repeatedly led to suffering. The mind adapts to survival conditions over and over again until survival stops functioning as a temporary state and slowly becomes an entire worldview.

The twentieth century already demonstrated what human beings become after enough exposure to fear, war and dehumanization. It demonstrated how easily constant danger reshapes attachment, morality, emotional openness and even identity itself. People emerging from war were often not the same people who entered it. Some remained psychologically trapped inside survival mechanisms decades afterward because the nervous system does not simply return to normal after years spent anticipating death.

Aleksander reads almost as an extreme literary manifestation of that same phenomenon. A person who has survived conflict for so long that the entire architecture of his mind has reorganized itself around preventing loss at any cost. A person whose understanding of safety has become inseparable from power because history repeatedly taught him that weakness invites destruction. A person who no longer approaches the world with the emotional instincts of someone raised in peace, because peace itself has never truly existed within the reality he inhabited.

That is why discussions around him become so emotionally charged, because beneath the fantasy there is something disturbingly familiar in him. The Second World War forced humanity to confront the reality that prolonged violence does not merely injure bodies or destroy cities. It reshapes people psychologically, sometimes permanently. It teaches human beings to suppress softness in order to continue functioning. It conditions entire generations to live in constant anticipation of catastrophe. It leaves survivors emotionally exhausted long after the physical war has ended.

So when I think about Aleksander in that context, I think about a person psychologically formed by centuries of conflict until fear, protection, control and survival became impossible to separate from one another anymore. And that is precisely why he lingers in my mind long after simpler characters disappear from memory, because there is something painfully human about the way endless war can turn even love into a form of survival.

I originally posted this on my dear friend Ewa's YouTube Community page. Thank you, love! @evejustlovebooks

So in case anyone needs it:

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He didn't do it.

The cops very clearly planted evidence on him because they had to make an arrest because all eyes were on them and whoever actually did the deed was making them look stupid.

Why would the real killer hero have kept the weapon on his person and traveled two states over while carrying it and a manifesto in his bag, conveniently turning the crime into a federal matter? The same guy whose bag they found in a park, filled with monopoly money? Why did the police turn off their bodycams, take Luigi's stuff, drive a block away, turn their bodycams back on, go back into the restaurant, and then arrest him?