Justice complex? Does this make me Anders?

For those who don’t know that’s a Dragon Age 2 reference. (Seriously if you haven’t played that by now, what are you doing reading this? Go, play or watch a play through online. Face it I’ll still be here, making jokes and references to old games.)

Last year I had some counciling. I won’t tell you with whom or where, however it came out that I have a justice complex. I’ve always fought for /protected/helped those who are different. From the very first time I sheltered the only non-white kid at my Primary school because I knew racism was wrong, to now where I’m trying to fight for change and gaffatape my brain back together. It makes me feel better about myself. It makes me feel like even though I’m useless,  I still have the strength to try better the hums race. I used to feel like a knight, walking around in shinning armour as the champion of the underdogs and marching under the banner of equality. (Even though sometimes I had to beat someone with said metaphorical banner.) I was determined to make this world better for those around me who were suffering, even if I couldn’t save myself. I walk the fine line between justice and vengeance everyday. But if I just help one person, I’d feel like the cat who got the biggest warm and sunny patch. It doesn’t make me feel warm inside, I feel golden and maybe I’m addicted to this feeling, but I’ve been told it’s very human of me. And maybe, despite everything, I still want to be human. So to lighten this blog a little (and face it, it needs it,) I’m going to share a happy memory with you for once. And who knows, it might make you smile.

I’ve been itching to share this memory with you for a while and it makes me smile every time I think of it. It was the only time I was ever called a ‘problem child’. In Primary school we were made to read a series of books called ‘The Magic Key’. They were designed to help us learn how to read, but I preferred my own books that expanded my mind rather than killing my I.Q. I believed these books were holding my classmates back because they were years behind me. So I wanted to set them free. So one afternoon I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to do something about it. 

All the magic key books were stored (conveniently for my plan,) on shelves running the entire length of the only corridor of my school. So when I had my good book taken off me at reading time and was told to fetch one of those books…well I had some fun. I ran up and down the corridor, throwing all the books onto the floor. Someone noticed me and my teacher came out, just as I was throwing the last ones on the floor. I started yelling “Viva Le Revolution” and “free your minds”. My teacher looked shocked but she was trying not to laugh as I started spouting revolutionary talk. As other teachers started coming out of their classrooms, I was labeled a problem child, but my teacher just gave me back my book and smiled. The school was in uproar, but I never got in trouble though. I probably gave my teacher something to laugh about later on and she never told my parents. However the other kids were too stupid to understand what I had done, but I got to read what ever I wanted from then on. I still had to try and read the magic key books for homework . My teacher cracked a smile every time I handed in my homework.  My answer to the question of “what was your favourite part of the book” was always “the end because I can go back to reading Sherlock Holmes/Shakespeare /Tolkien/James Herriot and many others.

I was 9.


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