“L”
they sewed the letter into my right shoulder.
“U”
my second Lettering Ceremony.
How had one year passed so quickly?
“C”
Thirteen years old and consumed with
wonder.
Who am I? What does it spell?
These letters,
eternally bound to me
eternally defining who I
am
will be.
“K”
It became painfully
obvious
and all the excitement faded,
burned away like fog by a
ferocious sun.
I spent the ensuing year in turmoil.
“Y”
I was handed an envelope.
It was crisp around the edges
and I bent them down for my own satisfaction
before
tearing the fragile thing to shreds.
Inside, neat lettering
neater than the edges of the
envelope,
neater than the letters
embroidered on my chest
read:
“If you’re lucky enough to be yourself, then never change.”
The Commencer smiled down at me.
His chest boldly stated
LEADER.
“Lucky?”
I asked
lips quivering,
voice trembling,
“Lucky to be myself?
Lucky that I never have to change?
Lucky that I don’t even have to try
to attain this perfect body
and face,
respect
and lineage?
Lucky. Lucky to have been robbed of the struggle for which every
man with a beating heart hungers.
Lucky to be a victim of our society.
Lucky.”
And I made that word mine.
Just as they wanted me to.
By repeating it I
engraved the accursed word
inside of me,
just as they had the outside.
I became.
I am.
Lucky.
