I grew within a group of people with a lot of artistic and creative interests. My town was not a culture place at all, but we people choose our friends and form groups with similar interests.

Some of these people were not only creative guys, but also very interested on martial arts, gym, running, weapons, surviving and those kind of things. Mainly were musicians, but, you know, I was a writer and a game designer.

I would say they were "alpha males", and me, a very confused transwoman who can't accept her nature, acquired by imitation a lot of his behaviors. I don't blame them at all, I wanted strong references, I'm still a lot of that.

Life separated us. Well, perhaps that's not true; our fights separated us. Perhaps we weren't able to keep our big mouths shut. Perhaps we were more into ego battles than into help us and developing true friendship, I'm not sure because that happened two decades ago.

But all these people were artists, so I could follow it's public life. Some had more success some others didn't. I can't say where I was leading to when disease devastated my family, but surely I wasn't lurking my "old friends", I don't think a bit about them. But recently I had some forced indirect contact.

What I found is hard to swallow: extreme right political activism (including, of course, anti trans activism), very strong isolation in home, heavy co-dependence relationship, a toxic relation with social media involving both addiction and constant criticism, probably sleep-helping medicines... training and martial arts.

I feel like looking a nightmare mirror from a dead past where we are replaced by monsters. So, what am I? Is behind my wig and lipstick also a monster?

I think there's a common point here: peaceful societies doesn't require that "alpha male" people. When everything is payable by money, security is included in the social pack. All the effort they do to be "ready for anything" is worth nothing, and they can't accept living without being venerated. They don't prepare for a "social collapse", they desire it to happen with hope that they will be useful and worthy again.

It's sick, it's pathetic.