Fly2e wrote:Hi Staiduk, of course we remember you... you were actual a Mod for a while! !
Yeah; I was...for about a week. The competition for a new moderator had gone up; I applied, but by then; I was already slipping into the abyss.
I was
barely hanging on at that point; literally scrabbling by my fingernails. I'd hoped my natural and trained leadership skills - combined with my real-world experience - would be able to provide me with a focus to latch onto; to prevent the Hell of alcohol addiction I could see coming - but was utterly powerless to avoid.
I can't remember how long I lasted as Moderator - maybe a month? But when I knew I could no longer act as Moderator - indeed; I could no longer function as a member of society - I posted a polite message of resignation. Then I left.
You never knew what happened once I left; but my last hold on civil society was gone. I will not bore you with the details; but I fell absolutely to the bottom of civilization. Once I'd fought to free people and create boundaries for new nations; now I fought gang-bangers for the edible contents of a dumpster.
I once smiled and danced with elegant ladies eager to make my acquaintance; tall, broad and handsome Sergeant Organ with my smart uniform and shiny medals. Now I took crack-whores if I could whip up the 40 bucks.
I once sampled rare wines and tried interesting variants of snuff from expensive fellows in beautiful suits.
Now I took any drug that would take me away from this nightmare. (EDIT: OK, THAT was a damn lie; gonna leave it in but I've no idea why I wrote that. Just trying yo emphasize the point I guess. I've smoked one joint in my life and hated it. Substitute drugs for alcohol and you've got the idea though.)
I
was a soldier. I'd become a monster. A violent, drunk, antisocial thug determined to survive; whatever the cost.
I want to tell you this; not so you change your mind about me but so there are no illusions between us: YOU NEVER KNEW ME.
You only knew my words; and I am good with words. I
told you what you wanted to hear. You made me a Moderator based on my words. You did not know the man writing those words was on the edge of falling into Hell itself.
Well, I
did fall into Hell. I had to fight my way back out; as only I can. You can make of this as you will; you can mention the UFC or any other sports show but understand this: I am probably the best hand-fighter you will ever know. No-one - from drunks to gangmembers to soldiers - has ever beaten me. I'm neither strong nor tough; I'm just
good; I will not allow anyone to beat me and I have the skill to back up that descision.
That is probably what saved me. Had I ever lost to the gangs or the drug dealers, I'd likely have fallen so low under the radar that I'd never been able to claw my way back. But I did. I fought them to a standstill. In the slum I call my home; I fought them until they left me alone. I won for myself the space to build up my funds; pay off my debts and re-enter the workforce as an honourable man and hard worker.
The road behind is long and rocky; but no more so than the road ahead. I'm glad you remember my Moderator status; but understand I was never the best man for it: I tricked you into thinking I was.
I will never ask for that honour again: I will never be good or neutral enough to deserve it. But I'm glad you remember I once held that privelege; it may be possible I did not go entirely forgotten. If so; I am happy.
Your contrite friend:
Dave