In Regards to the Dear Matron of the Colony

To the dear Matron,

I fear I must apologize for some things. I admit that I judged you too harshly upon our first meeting, of course, this was because of the way you judged me, but the manner of my wrongdoings is of no matter. The end goal of my harsh judgment was a result of fear for who you are, the power I foolishly believed you held over me, and much more. But those things aren’t the reason I chose to write this.

I chose to write this because I fear I have held you to a standard that I haven’t held another to before. If I am to judge your vitriol and deem it unworthy of some kind of love, then my own poison will be left lonely by the same scale. Despite everything you’ve been through, and everything you’ve done, I think that deep down, you are just as scared of the world as we all are. Afraid of the big bad wolves that hunt the meek sheep through the night time. I’ve since had time to meet some of your colony. Of course, those meetings were vaguely insincere as each of the generals you’ve appointed have been dipped into a pool of alcohol, disallowing their bodies and their words to speak with complete honesty. Those meetings were revealing to me. I admire how powerfully your colony will defend you, despite the things you’ve said or done. The nature of people never ceases to amaze me. The extent some will venture to in order to protect their status or what relationships they must grasp on to in order to assure themselves that they are worthy. It was enlightening to see, because I learned much of myself in these short meetings.

I first learned of you, in the aftermath of a decision that no mother would never make. I will spare the details, as they don’t matter to anyone but you. They shouldn’t matter to me, and yet they did. The actions that you took in the short time I allowed myself proximity to you frightened me. They did so not because I was worried that you could do anything to me. They scared me because I saw someone who was drunk with power and from the outside I could see the void of that power. It made me reconsider my own position in this grand life, where I felt as if I had some kind of agency. I could control those around me with only the way I spoke to them. That power isn’t one I would trust myself to have.

To speak and distill fear into the glass frames of those around me, people who were once sand before the bombs went off. Did you know that? The miracle of sand becoming glass. It’s a phenomenon I’ve always enjoyed witnessing. The concept that lightning strikes a desert and the area around the blast will be superheated and become glass. I have marveled at this miracle for much of my life, hoping to witness it first hand at some point, in a safe condition where I wouldn’t be hurt by the blast.

Turns out, I did find this, because I saw your castle and the court, filled with glass knights and pawns, each of whom marched around your quarters and trembled, their glass bones clinking against one another out of fear for the moment another strike would come. I came to find that the miracle I had wished to witness for so many years was not so magical up close. In truth, watching lightning strike the ground before you is a terror to behold. The way it changes those around you, the sound of the powerful boom roosting in their ears, echoing through glass bones over and over.

I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry that I judged you so harshly for this. I, of course, don’t understand your position or your power. How hollow I see it may be a difference in my perspective and I accept that. Out of fear I have said a great number of things about you and your practices, I have decried many things + openly spoken about the duties of a guardian, but I accept that this is a position of privilege, because my mother and father are amazing. My colony, just as small, just as influential, did nothing but show me love. Don’t doubt that I have a great deal of sorrow inside of me that the same cannot be said of what happened to you. I can’t know your history, or your life, just as you can’t know mine.

But I apologize for mistaking you, in the first place, as a series of thunderstorms brewing overhead. I hope that one day those clouds disperse, and the true love I have felt can find itself in your home, in your heart. The past is the past and moving forward I will consider this more. That I have unlimited power on some days, when my stomach doesn’t ache, and my ankles don’t grind against the bones in my feet.

I was called to walk, despite these pains and I was called for something more important. To love, despite the pain I’ve felt. Some days the scars that decorate my heart pulse and ache, and I let that pain jump out to others, I lash out and I find myself relieved in the displeasure I can cause to the random passerby I question and disgrace in public.

In some ways, I understand you, but in many, I don’t. I have no desire to, not because I think you aren’t worth understanding, no not anymore. Had you asked me a year ago the answer would have been the worst I could imagine. Nothing but words meant to rip you into pieces.

But I can see that your ant hill is much higher than mine, and I don’t have a reason to disagree. I don’t have a desire to understand because I don’t want to see what changed you firsthand. I’m afraid I would lose the calm I’ve spent years collecting and managing. Having lost that calm upon the first strike of lightning and taken months to recollect it, I choose to politely decline and step away from your presence. I will choose to do what I adamantly speak about and turn to show you kindness if I am ever faced with the displeasure of meeting your demons.

I have no reason to hate you, and I found my thoughts devolving into such. Just know, that I know. I hope you forgive me, if you hear the thoughts within my head. They are not kind, loving, or healthy. There is no excuse for what I’ve thought. I apologize that I’ve gotten in your way on your conquest and I will excuse myself, in an attempt to allow you to seek the answers you need on your own. I can’t help you, because I can so easily become you. I’m sorry that I cannot help you, but I am nothing but a bag of sand, afraid to be turned to glass. Without these warm stones I will be unable to shelter those I want to shelter, I will be unable to build my own ant hill. I hope you can forgive me.

That is all there is to say. I will part from your mountainous anthill and find a nice meadow to lie down in. This will be the last time I reach forward to say a thing. You have caused me too much strife, and I’ve realized recently that it wasn’t you at all. It was what has become of you. My heart goes out to you, truly. I cannot act upon the thoughts within my head, lest I forgo the promises I’ve made myself for years. But I will pray for you, and I will pray for me. I will pray for those we’ve touched, and I will be sure to consider the terrible power you’ve shown me that I have. I will work to fix it, because I am not strong enough to control this terrible thunder.

I fear that no one is.

Condolences, Terrence Amber,

The Ant Hunter.

 

P.S. I haven’t seen a species such as you in quite a while. I thought you had gone extinct. I must call my friend Indigo, she will know much more. She has lived through the time in which your species grew fruitfully. Perhaps then I can help you, but even so. I am still afraid. I will send Indigo to seek you out one day, when she is ready, I will call for you again upon that day. Until then, I hope this letter reaches you with ease. Of course, I don’t want you to read it. I’m not even sending it to you. It will stay in this lockbox until you or I have found the strength to move forward. With grace, and with love.

With lots, and lots of love.

I’ll be releasing more fun writing as next month begins, keep an eye out! I’m excited for all the stories I have to tell.

www.linmtba.com

Also, if you haven’t yet, I’ve been releasing videos on YouTube! I’ve had to reupload the first two, and I’ve begun posting bi-weekly, but if you’re interested in writing I have a lot of information and advice, what you should do, what you shouldn’t (lots of what you shouldn’t) and some exercises to keep your writing ability sharp!

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