Gazing outside the window, admiring the view—I reflect. I never really had the time to think—after all—at the end of the day, I was too busy surviving—providing for my sisters. How could someone like me even have such right—when all I ever learned was to get by? Do I even deserve any of this?—Oh Didi, I wish you were here, …

I never really had a plan after that—I always thought about the family I had. This sense of being I always had—this emptiness—I never really had a problem with it. Seven months till the sacrifice, two months before the coronation—till they will to come to this so called palace, but I really see it for what it is—a cage. I …

“It is finished.“ I have let it simmer for too long—oh well. After my anger has boiled over—a massacre begun. I have killed those that needed to be killed—for my prince to become a king—of course I have excluded the mothers and the children after all, aren’t I quite merciful. I shall leave the babies, children, and their mothers to …

I never felt the need to believe in the gods—after all I was born as one. Those so-called “gods” never even helped me once—those gods are created by those on the top, for the top. Leaving the durbar hall gives me relief—after all seeing parasites enjoy their so-called privilege abhors me. I never learned to read. The symbols that somehow …

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 …

Oppressed and unwanted. Born from a prostitute, often segregated, unable to even reach a minuscule of resources afforded by those who were born in better environments or families. Stuck with unwanted jobs and prospects in a society that perceives you as lower than dirt—avoided like the plague. That is my normal life—thankfully, I have not stooped so low into prostitution—though …

“I wasn’t enough for him to stay—was I?” I find his presence in any way I can. Carrying the weapons he used, his favorite snacks, and his writings. I had a lover. We grew up together—but he died, a willing sacrifice. An enthusiastic sacrifice to this dome. We were part of this small group of people validated for this sacrifice. …