These people’s faces in front of me—with their eyes trying to gauge what I can bring them—fame, wealth, glory—to be part of a story of a “chosen”.
I stay silent—I smile—keeping my head down I let them chatter away, but I know behind these doors after they leave their facades leave their faces and all that is left is disgust—towards me, but the thought of things that may come if they butter up to me is quite laughable.
Imagine the kind of people this society hates the most—thinking that they could use me for their own agendas—to throw me away after my use—disgusting. I keep silent—I keep smiling.
They hold my hand singing of praise and care and with my back turned wash their hands like they have held the excretion of an animal.
I close my eyes—I keep smiling, after all it wouldn’t be great for my plans to not persist after all I am dirty in the eyes of many—easily disposable.
When I was a child, I would never have played with those above me. But there was this one time. The parents of the children—assaulting a child for even daring to touch those above their station—they even threw away the stick they used. I wonder if they even remember me.
I even wondered if I would have been a great prostitute with the way I act, mother would be proud not that she would be, I never would, of course. What makes me smile is the thought of people terrified of me now—a pollutant being a god?—how comical. But more so the fear that comes with. Just the thought of those who used us—funny. I remember to laugh at those around me entertaining these people on the top of the system.
How amusing—seeing those who are at the top tripping over themselves to amuse—entertain me—from my little whims to my every wish—they would probably do anything to satisfy me. Who isn’t scared of someone on the lowest reach of the system becoming powerful enough to destroy and ruin all their privileges and rank—to tear down this system in a blink of an eye—a system where they deem themselves untouchable—a system built by them brick by brick—a system for them alone.
I remember the words Nirmala told me—I talk about my siblings—a tear is shed—they flock around me—they tell me all I needed to hear. Money, support, and power all I needed before this—my time set in stone will run out—after all satisfying me is the least they can do before sending me to my death.
I just wished I could have killed them all. I imagine their dead bodies lying around me as I step over them. I regret I never will get the chance, after all—if this system exists to only benefit them—it should be destroyed—oh well.
