To whomever

A Story by Nicholas

To whom may find my letters,

In a country claiming to be free, and everyone has a say on what happens in the country, I couldn’t feel more helpless. For most of my life I’ve been under tyranny of parents and schooling. The idea of a self-impact on my own life was lost as the first bell is wrung and a Hitler like speech is repeated to me over a PA system, and learning is steered without an input from me.

The days are filled with daydreams of seclusion on a beach, with rum and not a rainy day for years. The soothing sound of music I don’t understand, and waves dancing a few feet from where I sit to write, as the night moves around me as if I wasn’t there at all. A freedom from pressure and government, the only interaction is from the kid at a liquor store where I get more “supplies”.

These dreams are what they really are, dreams. For in a modern world it is sacrilege to want for yourself what you really want. The dreams you’re feed are for production and forward movement, to be a model employee for someone who had it better to you did, and were force fed their own dreams. To be separate from government and overbearing bosses is anarchist propaganda, and freedom from one tyranny is entrance into another tyrannical being.

I don’t sing my name, because through my anonymity I have the courage to ramble. I hope that one will sign their own to challenge these thoughts that aren’t our own. That their own courage will surpass mine, and the crowd will follow them, and give their thought fame so that I can continue to cower behind my paper and pencil, and continuing to favor an anonymous persona.

Then soon the feeling of salt will be on face and music in my ears; so that I will find freedom on the beach, away from the rest of the world beneath my feet.

Anonymous Writer