To Whoever may read this

Hello there. May this letter find someone someday.

I am not sure I will have another chance again to write.

It is me Ania, I am 32 years old and time went quite fast I must admit. I was never a talkative person, I think I am putting more words out in this letter than I did in my entire life. I can say had an easy life, did not have any issues, or facing dangers and could sleep most nights without a worry. I am the perfect person for this world we live in. And even then I wish I was someone else.

I kept running away from pain, sadness or any negativeness in this world, as everyone else, so focused on running away from hate that I forgot what love is.

Actually no one who is currently living knows what love is, it is a forbidden word that has been the cause for all the pain and suffering in the world.

There wasn’t a war that didn’t start without love, a life that didn’t end because of the love that was no longer there.

All the great contemporary thinkers and mindless politicians were reaching to the same conclusion:

Love is the greatest cause of pain

And with every pain, if you let it grow, what was once an indifferent sting was now a cancer too big to destroy.

But how do you stop what been a staple of society? You can’t.

I tried to think about how was life before but all the information I had access does give more questions than answers.

It has been a century since the act of complacency was established all around the world, at least that’s what we are led to believe. I haven’t gone outside the city that I was born in, you do need to be a diplomat or just reckless to leave the borders of the city, not even talking about leaving the country.

It has also been a century since the last war ended leaving millions dead and without home, and a new war has started.

The war of not knowing who are your parents , not knowing your purpose and not knowing your children.

It is not the strongest who survive here, but the ones who make less of a splash in these cold waters.

So yes, I do not know who my parents are, I have been doing the same typewriting job for fifteen years, married to someone I also do not know and only see once a year.

The worst part of all this is that I don’t even know who I am, and I struggle to understand my loneliness because everyone else seems to be getting along just fine.

I only noticed how twisted this all was when one day I arrived at my office and my laptop wouldn’t just turn on. I tried everything, and in a desperate attempt, I decided to not waste any time and decided to go to my boss’s office. I couldn’t tell him the truth, and as I opened the door, I kindly told him that someone in the conference room was calling for him, he didn’t ask who or why because I at this point I have never lied. As he left I opened his drawer and found some forbidden items: a notebook and a pen. I questioned myself twice if it was worth to steal this but I had no time to waste I just took it and left. 

The next few weeks I spent practicing the shape of the letters, slowly making words and then sentences, always looking behind my shoulder. My laptop eventually started working again but it was an expensive paperweight at this point. The freedom of every letter formed, every stroke with my pen started to expand my mind and my curiosity that was once dead. No one could control or see what

I was writing and the limited physical freedom that I had was slowly spreading and infecting my mind. What was once a curiosity was now an obsession. I was called to my boss’s office later as I was lagging behind work, he was disappointed and also curious to know why the best and fastest typewriter in the city was barely writing a page per day.

“You are important here and you are needed, people need to know the truth and they can’t do it without you” he said “If you can’t write like you used to, we have more people eager to replace you. I don’t mean this as a threat, but you don’t need much to think about, everything is already set up for you, you just need to type on what you see on your other screen”

I nodded and promised to do better, knowing that my time here was as limited as the pages I had in the notebook left to write.

A few more weeks passed and I was let go, I left everything in that office with the exception of the notebook and pen.

I was now alone in my studio apartment, barely leaving the desk I was in, only to eat, drink and sleep for a few hours.

I would check from time to time my phone, only to notice that I wasn’t spending enough time in the government apps, ignoring the minimum allocated time that I should spend watching the news and reading memos for my citizenship eligibility to continue.

I was getting close to the fire but I didn’t care, I would prefer to die burning than to live in the cold again.

What was it that I was writing about you might ask? I am not sure to be honest, I would write pretty much about everything and the sentences that were once only childish and impulsive thoughts, were now becoming complex and dangerous. Dangerous not for me but for whoever would have the chance to read them, awakening the inner beast we all have.

Weeks became months, and the loneliness and freedom helped me to get a better understanding of what love is, and that is the willingness to die for. At least that was the first step to it. I was willing to die for these pages and didn’t care much about the rest. This is probably pointless and I doubt anyone will ever read this but nevertheless I put my heart into it, I guess you could say I did this for love. This was my second baby, and unlike the first I was unable to let it go.

I came back here to these pages, proudly knowing I succeed and reached my goal. I do know what love is now.

I am disappointed I did not have much time to experience it, but I am glad to know what was once unknown to me. Is life better without love? I am not sure, all I know is that love is indeed a destroyer, but at the same time it is the ultimate creator.

 I am now confessing to you my last moments, I will be hanged in a few hours, confessing to a crime I didn’t commit. All this because I need to save my first love, and I won’t stop dancing until the lights are out. I am not expecting a revolution out of this, or even a quick glance at my words, all I hope is that the a new song is played and the dance continues.

If you managed this far into my reading then I have done my final purpose and with this I will say my final words to you.

I love you,