Letters to Me

Dear Me,

 

(Laughs dryly) how it is that I find myself in written correspondence to me is a situation worthy of exclamation, dear me! I write because I have become, in a world of predators, the chief prey. I write because in a world revolving around a vicious cycle of instant judgements and analysis, I am the chief prey.

I am a victim. A victim of my beautiful mind. I am a victim, a victim of constant efforts to transcend the past. I am a victim, a victim of concerted, calculated, compromises, concocted with the sole purpose of conquering. I am the victim.
I am the victim of science, a discipline born by me now grown so much that it is now my creator. The discipline which tells me my origin is from monkeys, through a process called evolution but fails to convincingly explain how it is, in over a thousand years we have not witnessed such evolution again.
I am the victim of religion, set up in search of a supreme deity with laws that decide that only worshippers and their gods deserve to exist, everyone else is an infidel who should be blown to smithereens.

I am the victim of hate. Hate from unenlightened minds, people who do not understand my sexual orientation. I am the victim of their abuse, they cannot comprehend that I was born this way. They believe that my orientation stems from a deep phobia for failure in front of a female, stems from my perverseness and the sickness which plagues my beautiful mind, stems from my radicalness and boldness to stir uncharted waters.

I am the victim. I am the victim of my own choices not nature.

The world is falling to shreds and I am the facilitator, I demand pity and understanding from the world, I demand freedom to be allowed to pull this world to ultimate ruin, I demand my freedom and I am well within my rights.
I am the victim and I demand justice!

Yours victimised,
The victim