Why I Fight

Sometimes I wonder why I write. I have a few stock answers stored up. I love it. I live to write. I do it to escape from the world; it is my Second Life and even my Second Second Life. It is everything I want.
But then I remember that writing isn't about the stagnant--it's about fighting either for or against something. Thus, the question shouldn't be "Why do I write?" but "Why do I fight?" And most days, I try to hide from the answer to that question because... because examining the answer means accepting terrible truths.
This morning I decided to watch JFK's "Ich Bin Ein Berliner" speech for the hundredth time, and there was a comment from this usasucks1 character. I found it offensive enough to check his profile, and this is what I found. I immediately sent him a simple message pleading, "Why?" God, I wish I knew why seeing this broke me up inside, but it did. I look at this, and I want to fight it--this person and all others like him.
Yet, other days, I do not think that it is that simple. I think about the things that I write, and sometimes I wonder if they do not speak for themselves.

"God, Ralph, I want America to live so much,” he cried. “I want her to live so much that I do not know how to save her!"

It seems so clear when I read this quote. I read it, I reflect on it, and I think that maybe Ellsworth Toohey was right about it.