On the 29th of December 2019 do I write to you, my dearest diary, this:

Oh this was a glorious day, a perfect fog had conjured itself and manifested within this damned village. All our lives had we observed these unjust laws, lest we wished our bodies to be slaving away in rotten concrete boxes or shot by mercenaries. I have been tormented and unwilling servant to the avarice and ira of my bio-parents; no choice was I allowed in how I was to pursue the worldly problems, since I was planned to be their "successor". Not even a robot could withstand this moneyed "sacredness" that covers over their lust for a perfect replicant that shall submit to and reproductively perpetuate their will – at all costs no less.

Whenever I would dare spare even a single coin(!) to the perishing and homeless, their canes would strike me. For what was a coin to them, was it worth the physical abuse on my head, back and butt for one coin staying with us? I know they check my purse, because I do get hours-long talks about "finances" and "not being too thrifty to neglect my needs". I have the entire world soon to be in my hands if I abided to their anti-human education, money is-as useless to me unlike the real things that I could've dictated if I were a heartless-heir to their moneyed-empire!

Whenever I befriend a peasant or proletarian, their henchmen would carry out their ira for a fixed price. To maintain my "social-purity" would they claim I couldn't see this or that poor kid, to maintain my "psychical-purity" would they claim that socializing with the "dirt" and "employees" was harmful and unbecoming of me. I only realized now that never again would I see my deceased friends because of the bio-family's cruelties, with insult to injury would they would pay heftily to my deceased friends' parents to bury their kid far away – an arduous march's way away – from this town. Just a lone figure sat I on this over-glorified chair that was acquired by money, yet the guarantee of such money coming by the blood and sweat of people I loved.

Whenever I speak my "bio-family's" mother-tongue would they call it cute; proceeding next to mocking me by then speaking it fluently and telling me "to learn it the way they learnt it" in this moneyed-tongue of ours! Oh the lengths I went to acquire a tutor who knew my mother-tongue, paying people to pay other people who would be brave enough to meet me! However, like every time this transaction's transaction occurred, one of the "bio-family's" henchmen would eventually steal that payment and keep it for themself – usually mugging it due to being stiffed by the "bio-family". Severed from even having a vain connection, I really was forced to accept this molding and swallow up myself so as to pretend to be their empty husk of a progeny.

Yet, yesterday was a great day that only made itself felt today. Though I thought not much of it, for I was sneaking around armed with my revolver as the "bio-family" expects me to have on the day when the maids cleanse this house, it had an impact I am still reeling from – hopefully today ends the last of the ramifications. I saw in front of me two doors, both preoccupied by that horrid cleansing chemical smell that only the "bio-family's" factories could guarantee; yet I saw two doors, both seemed fair to travel into and my stained dress wasn't going to clean itself in my waiting. So I chose one of the doors and my heart skipped a beat when I glanced at this young maid dusting the floor, seemingly unaware of my existence.

I hated wearing dresses, but I wasn't going to tear up mines anytime soon. Or atleast that was my thought going into this room, looking for a dress shirt and pants to slip into; then I remembered the "bio-family" doesn't allow anyone but special guests to leave alone, so I freaked out over getting a partner. That's when I felt my revolver dropping, I turned around to grab it as she did reaching for it as well; the murder in her eyes dissipated into terrified tears, but I quickly covered her mouth and shushed her. When she finally calmed down, I asked her a simple question:

"May you cut my hair so I can escape, with you no less?"

Her eyes became weirded out, so my hand pointed at the dress-pants and dress-shirt I found; gently removing my hand covering her mouth, she quietly responded:

"Pani Sarah Kroł, I don't want you to suffer the fate of your brother who died because he donned on the clothes that your patriarch wants no girl to wear."

My first actual choice made by traveling into that door, and my rib-cage was ready to explode:

"A br-brother?! Why has no one told me this, yet what means you to say that my sibling couldn't wear those clothes?"

She sighed, she sat and rested on a counter:

"My sister, who already knew your sibling wanted to be a man despite your patriarch despising that aspect, tried sneaking herself and your brother out one night – but then your patriarch spotted my sister and your brother. Your brother pushing her through a hole in the fence, he pulled out his sword and fought valiantly against your patriarch. Then your patriarch only said one phrase, sending your brother to a frenzy; my sister heard it, telling me your brother was born 'hermaphroditic' and his patriarch whipped him with phrases like he 'should be grateful to be made a women and saved from social-death'! Then your brother snapped back, slicing your patriarch's arm off while stating that he 'would rather die socially amongst this moneyed-clique than being robbed of Nature's gift'; terrorizing your patriarch even further, he wished he could've lived hermaphroditic and be an angel to the have-nots while suffering the haves to be in constant terror."

I cried into her bosom, still unknowing of my sibling's death; she patted my head, leaning in to whisper the rest of the tragedy:

"Oh I rather him here – deceased Feliks – than you to suffer my poor memory, but my sister recalls the unfortunate fall from grace when your matriarch shot from that same revolver you hold now. Your matriarch called him 'a freak from birth and a freak now', she ironically had to be restrained by the patriarch for 'looking too bloodily and being unable to sweep this murder under the rug'. Absolutely zero care for your brother, only their wretched reputation which makes the coppers in blue all too smug to protect. But hear me closely, since today would've been the day a revolt would've scarred the entire mansion; yet you are here and I believe there's another way to get what we both want, with less bloodshed and political fallout of course."

But before she could make her offer, I softly said:

"Though I am no man nor I wish to become one, I do rather love the clothes that men are allowed to wear but I am not allowed to touch. If I am to do anything, I am to do it with those clothes – I hereby delegate this dress unto you, protect it for my weary hands shall only rip it off of its beauty. Yet as I cannot be forced to privation for a perverted sense of "beauty", Beauty itself assistingly reveals that less-privated instances of it exists for me to enjoy myself and others with; my dearest pani, I cannot lie that my heart dies a bit when it sees thy soul suffering these soulless conditions! But tell me, pani Minnie: had you stared into me the weeks before because I inspired the flame in your bosom, or did you see me as a target – may I know the answer?"

Happily sighing as she pulled out clippers from her maiden knapsack, her arms squeezed me deeper into her bosoms as she then planted my arse down on a stool:

"Take off the dress and wear this undershirt, I haven't clipped hair in a damn while my scallywagger. Oh do I repent the time that I saw you as them, a near perfection with questionable oddities. Oh do I confess certainly clear that when I saw your charity and your humility to people other than your Patriarch and Matriarch, my bosom was engulfed in pure passion for you! I snuffed any impure desire, knowing it wouldn't be as satisfactory nor fulfilling as actually having you all for my own as we service ourselves to the liberation of all toiling people and the Almighty. Just like your intersexual sibling, wanting to wear the clothes you cannot touch; unlike him, now you can finish where he started. For that is all what we want, the full and total control of what has been unfairly extracted from us and unwisely spent! But pray tell, are you a butch?"

The last line hit me like a train, I thought they were of legends, but to be asked if I was one, well I cannot lie that my faith in the One and my prayers coming true after all this time coincided so perfectly:

"Indeed, I am one; if the One so produced me this way, who am I to deny this miraculous truth that was written into me! I read the stories, us butches are powerful when we can realize the truths already actualized in us! No longer do I cower in fear of those that strip my will away from me, I now wield a most dangerous weapon against those that seek to control me! Pray hand me a mirror, 'tis time I see my cut if you stopped snipping."

Seeing her angelic smile behind me as I checked my haircut, I must say I done only one impure act that I think is not worth wasting any ink on since our bosoms bore beautiful witness of our pre-marital act. Yet do I recall what the beaten-up church-father Philip Neri said to me after this act, that I was under so much duress that it made sense to finally have a latch at what has been denied to me for so long; to "taste the inklings of the honey and milk of Heaven in the flesh after being starved of it for so long, 'tis a curse most oppressed younglings face". Yet they told me to pray my rosary if I felt really guilty and to hold myself accountable until the sacred union of two souls, so I may feel the spiritual-pleasure more strongly than any temporal-temptation. Equally, however, they asked whether I felt free – I only could smirk as I said I finally closed the gap that kept us apart. However, I still have a day to still scribe still.

After a most eye-opening act, I donned the dress-shirt and dress-pants as she changed into my dress. While she didn't have my hair-color, as mines dark and hers a soft ginger, nor was she tall as me – we blended into the crowds of maids and drunken aristocrats lodging in this mansion. Hand-signaling to all her comrades, they quickly understood the fair affair betwixt us. Soon, the mansion was quieter than an empty plain of sands; we comfortably made our way to the master-bedroom, hearing the angry yelling of my Matriarch and Patriarch. Before we could open the door, the head-butler held my unarmed hand while staring at us:

"If you're going to punch the master, pani Sarah, and think that that's that, then rethink that reasoning and pray kill the master with ammunition that will make a wild bear collapse."

Handing me two bullets, I overtly emptied my revolver's chamber and stuffed those unused bullets to my pockets. Loading in these bullets, I only prayed that I didn't miss. The head-butler smiled, unlocking the doors to then walk away and never be seen or heard anywhere again apparently. They were always the weird type, however my respect for them grew yesterday. I think I figured it out where they are, must've travelled to the lake they always told me they would go either in death or in the last days of their life. I hope to catch up with them one day, hopefully fish as well if they minded it not; however, a story I must still scribe.

With one breath, we both opened the doors screaming:

"Down with the accursed masters, may your moneyed-reign come to an end and may Feliks be avenged today!"

Two shots, and they collapsed with a forceful thump. Peace reigned for the first time in this mansion, from noise to emotions did peace reign! All the house-guests with the maids rushed as I finished loading-up and holstering my revolver, but only the house-guests kneeled while the maids popped the expensive champaign against the fragile windows. As I smiled at the scene before me, I nearly throw myself against an aristocratic house-guest ready to shoot at the maids; then Minnie unholstered my revolver to him, putting him down with acute accuracy. The new house-rules were written in blood-shed and gunpowder, no longer will the ones who ruled the workers rule; the aristocrats favoring their heads over their treasures of wealth, they all relinquished their power at the heavy hand of punishment. The maids claimed what they felt was theirs, soon hauling it back to town along with weapons they could loot from the mansion's armory and the aristocrat's holsters.

Of course, there was much more that carried through the night like the arrival of an imprisoned priest Philip Neri as I told you my diary or the small skirmishes between us workers against the henchmen of my "bio-family". Yet, these are still ongoing matters. In the midst of all that, I do wish to give great thanks to the One in the Heavens and within us all: thanks for providing the fog that made us workers more able to handle the coppers and the henchmen, thanks for the strength and direction you have provided us to practice our stratagem, thanks for the opportunities that grant our wills the free-ability to self-determine ourselves and thanks for never abandoning us. With that, dear diary, do I close this entry – tomorrow may the skirmishes against those that oppress us end!

'Till tomorrow, my dearest diary you.