On some level it was like being told that your unkind father or grandfather, who has spurned your love, was wasting away. I had tried so hard to love this man, to envision him as my father and my spiritual guide. His words and teaching became the torment of my youth, as I struggled to fit into a mold so constricting that it stunted years of growth.
A tiny tinge of regret blossomed in the pit of my stomach while I tried to stomp it out. Not regret for having been unable to win his love - but regret that it had taken me so long to let go and walk away. This man was the reason that I was born; I was conceived out of a duty towards him. My conception likely had nothing to do with love, other than a misguided attempt at loving someone else's notion of god.
These days I am not bitter. Instead I lost my mother-tongue and celebrated its loss. But like a wild-child I have not yet learned any fluency in the world I was sheltered from for so long. Perhaps there is an endearing, naive quality to my linguistic starts, stops and stutters. Thus far, the world I was taught to fear has embraced me.
This day has been on this horizon for many years. Even a false-messiah cannot live forever. He used to speak of souls that would drag your spirit down to the pits of hell if you disobeyed his doctrine. What awaits you on the other side, sir?
When the Oligarch is gone, then the in-fighting will really begin. The saddest part is that it will be the innocent and faithful who will be most hurt. They think that the weight of their soul, and those of all lineally connected to them, hangs in the balance.
What a beautiful day it is to be free...