Unusual

I don't know when I first realized that I was different from everyone else, but I remember a time when I didn't feel different, so I must not have been this way forever. I just don't know what to do about it. My parents would be disappointed if they knew the things I think about. My older sister already seems to suspect. I can tell from the way she looks at me. I'm not a fool. I'm just as smart as everyone else here. I just view things in a different light, or, like, in light at all. I wonder if there is anyone else in this place like me.

From a young age I was taught to conform, to be like everyone else. Normalcy was, well, normal. I should read the same books to others read, practice the same drills, adhere to the same philosophies. We are all after the same thing, after all: a world where we can survive and the unworthy are doomed to die.

My sister always seemed to revel in it all. She cherished the idea that she might have some control to make the whole world like our own piece of it. She wanted to bring our practices to the masses, if she could. Of course, it made no sense for everyone to know the things we did, for if they did, there would be little use for us in the end.

It's just strange, I mean, it's normal for everyone else, but for me, it's strange. I don't know why I don't feel drawn to death the way everyone else does, but somehow, for whatever reason, I see beauty in life. I try to hide my feelings as best as I can. I fear that if anyone ever knew what I was thinking, I would be turned away, and once I am turned away, I fear they may use the very things I've been learning about against me. I know the others aren't afraid to die, but I am. I'm not ready for that yet. I feel like there is something missing, something I'm missing, something we're all missing, and I want to discover what it is.

The enemy. So often, I wonder if the enemy has what I'm looking for. I know its blasphemous to even think it, to even contemplate that some part of what we do might be wrong. After all, we work for the greater good, for a higher good. We want a world of peace and happiness. It's just that to us, that peace and happiness is death and loneliness. But why do those words seem so bad to me? They are glory and great joy. That's what I've always been told. But somewhere along the way I stopped believing. Somewhere, I started to think that it was wrong.

It's the most natural thing in the world: death. And I've always been told that darkness is our friend. It makes so much sense in my mind, and yet my heart can't quite seem to believe it. Something is off, and I'm afraid to ask if anyone else has felt this way before. What if they haven't?

But why should I think I'm so special? Why should I think I'm so unique? I've always been average. Average at the mental assessments, average in the physical tests, average in every way. Maybe that's why I'm making up this alternate way of thinking about things, because I'm just not as good at this way as others. I'm not as good as my friends and I'm not as good as my sister. Sure, there are plenty who are worse than me. That's what average means after all. But those closest to me always seem to be better. Is it because I've started to view things differently, or have I started to view things differently because of it?

I wish there were someone I could talk to, but it's hard when you value loneliness and introversion. Sure, my friends are great, but sometimes I wish friends were someone you could actually talk to, and not just the group of people you choose to spar and mediate with. When my friends meditate, they look like they're getting something out of it. They seem truly lost in the darkness, like we all should be. Me, I just keep longing for the light. I wish it would stop.

Am I really so unusual? Am I really the only one of my kind who has ever felt this way? I wonder if anyone has ever gone over to the light side before, over to the enemy. I've never heard of such a thing, but of course, why would they tell me? Why should they tell me? Secrets are the key to success. We do what we're told, we trust in the darkness, and the power of death shall be ours. It's they way it is. It's the best way. Why does it feel so wrong to me?

I want to live, I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill anyone else either. I dread the day they send me out on my first mission. All the others seem so excited, especially my sister. She has her first mission next week. She can't wait to show what she can do, how her control over death is nearing completion. Me on the other hand, I'd rather not even know of this power. I'd rather be unaware than understand it all. I want to be like the ones she's going after, but I don't want to die.

I can't have it both ways. I hate it. I know the way things really are. That's part of being one of my people. I can't be both happy and free. I can't have both life and the power of death. If I am alive, I will be killed by those who have the power. If I have the power, I can hardly be alive. All those around me think death is life, but I think death is just death, and it's terrible. What is wrong with me?

Maybe someday before it is my time, it will all make sense. I hope it does. I hope I can be absorbed into the darkness like my sister, that I can take the joy in it that she does before the end. But at the same time, I don't want to be like that. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I see a better way, a way of happiness and peace in which the enemy does not have to die. But that is impossible. Our words can never persuade them. We have no choice but to kill. At least that's what my people have always told me.

I should not question. I should just accept what I am. I should be proud to know the truth when others in the world cannot. That's what they tell me, but it just feels wrong. I want friends I can talk to, not just prepare with. I want parents who love me. Love, now that's a strange word. I only know it because they tell us it is what makes the enemy weak. Of all the things we have ever studied in school, love seems to be the one thing I understand when my classmates do not, and the one thing I must be ashamed of understanding.

It just seems so wonderful, having someone who puts your needs above their own, and you wanting to do the same for them. Always looking out for someone else. If I had someone I could do that for, and know they were doing the same for me, I think I might be okay with death, but death by its very nature forbids such a thing.

I just want out of this life. I don't want the escape of death that everyone else so longs for. I want out of this life so that I can really live. I don't know how to explain what I mean, or if its even possible, but somehow, I know we're doing it all wrong. And there's no one I can talk to about it. No one here seems to have ever felt this way before.

Unless of course... Maybe, well, what if I'm not so unusual? What if others feel the exact same things I do, and are fighting so hard to hide it, just like me. They tell us conformity is true freedom, but I think freedom is freedom, and conformity is conformity. I want to think for myself and I want to enjoy my life, not the darkness and not the killing and dying. I want to feel truly free and happy. Maybe there are others like me, and if there are how can I find them? How can I find out whether or not I am really so unusual?

There's no more time to think about it now. I have to go spar with my friends. I hate it, but it's my duty, and if I don't show up, someone will know something is wrong and they will come after me. I hate our society. I hate perfection. I hate not being able to enjoy any of it and being told that I am enjoying it all. I hate being so unusual. Maybe I do want to be like our enemies. Maybe that is the only way. I envy our enemies. I want to be like them. Must that be so unusual?