Homeland

Letter three

Citudaolle,

            It may please you to know that I do, on occasion, remember you with fond feelings.  On occasion.  Sometimes I remember how we would wander around the village, annoying our neighbors.  The way we would be talking, then arguing, then kissing.  The days you came to visit me during training, after the government took me to train as a warrior.  I was so frightened then, and the fact that you were there to support me always eased my pain.

            You would remind me that it could have been worse, that I could have went into the children's sector, forced to take a potion to undo my love for you, forced to bear children, raise children, with men I didn't love.  It was times like those that we forgot how it was through a potion that we fell in love, too.  You always said that being a warrior was much better than being in the sustenance sector, forced to work long hours in the fields or amongst filthy animals.  But I could see it in your eyes.  Sometimes you would wish I wasn't so strong and lithe.  They would have chosen me to be in the government sector, with you.  But you were also glad that I was a warrior, and not something else.

It was true.  Being a warrior was quite a privilege, in Hell.  We were fed well, were relatively free - we could bring whom we wanted to our chambers, spend our few free moments however we chose to - but the training was vicious.  The instructors were fierce.  Do you remember how you would visit me at night, and you had to be gentle with me, for my entire body was encased in bruises and cuts?  And the healers refused to treat my classmates and I, on government orders, because the pain was to help strengthen us?

            You would lie next to me on the bed and whisper the threats you would make to the government.  You would rub my aching muscles, and hold me close to you.  After a few decades, I finished training.  Top marks.  And I never had to go through that again.  The nights then were heavenly.  My skills far surpassed even my elders.  The government had me take the immortality potion, for my talent was not to be wasted.  They had you take it too.  For of course, my skills would be wasted if you died and I spent the rest of my existence in numbing depression.

            It's at these times that I shake my head at my stupidity.  Why would I ever want to leave that world of luxury and you?

            I would make myself recall the sad times.  When I was elected to join the council, to represent the warriors.  We argued constantly, large, ferocious fights.  Passionate.  Loud.  I always thought it was because you were jealous.  Jealous that I was the one on the council.  That I was the one to take the immortality potion, and you merely taking it because they didn't want me to have to mourn your death.

I thought it was stupid.  That you were stupid.  That you weren't stupid, but the way you thought was stupid.  And the government was what put your thoughts into your head, and therefore your allegiance to the government was stupid.

I think that was what triggered my rebellion.

Khlamuherguetora

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Hi! I had this written a while ago, but for some reason I couldn't get onto wattpad, so... anyhoo, it's here now!  I'm also trying to write this poem collection called "musings".  Why don't you take a look at it and tell me what you think about my them? Wink, wink.  Haha.  But seriously, I'm not a very poetic person.  The poems are just some thoughts that were too short to be considered a story, so I pressed 'enter' a bunch of times and called it a poem.  Yeah... you probably don't want to read it anymore, if you were even planning on reading it in the first place, but... please do. 

I should stop wasting your time now.  Thanks for reading this far!