I remember my past. Hunger and hurt. It felt like I wasn't part of my body. My skin hung from my bones, desperately reaching and wanting a return to the earth, an eternal vacation from my suffering. My long ears did nothing to halt the endless howls of sorrow. The crust and thick, gooey curtains over my eyes did not shield me from the sights of hopelessness. My belly was left empty, cramping from my voracious and ignored appetite. I sat in my own filth with my head hung low and my heart drumming an endless drone of exasperated life. I was in a place where the dogs have no names.
Revolution springs into my life. Change. This word conjures up mixed emotions. Change is bad. It leaves me outside. It leaves me cold. It leaves me tired, my eyes throbbing with pressure. It leaves me wondering. Change is good. It is warm. It is food. It is the care for my eyes. It is the settling of my heart, no longer writhing with an alien attacker. It is the calmness of a hand. It is a unique emotion of something I'm unfamiliar with. Change is strange. It is warm, but without a hand. It is food, but tastes like garbage. It is my skin that doesn't sag, but burns with discomfort. It is a house without love. It is confusing. Change is a friend and a foe.
Change has come again. I am afraid. Will this be change that is bad? Will it be strange? Could it be good? I am tired of change. I can no longer bear the uncertainty of what my life is. It is better to just get it over with and find out which change this is. I plead to return to the place where the dogs have no names. Even this would be better than the ups and downs! I reveal all my negative attributes, trying to drive away something I didn't know I wanted. But nothing follows. Nothing. No response. Interesting. But then, something strange happens, or rather, doesn't happen. There is no fear. There is no hunger. There is no hurt. Very interesting indeed.
That unique emotion of something I'm unfamiliar with comes to life. I am boggled by this strange, tingly emotion. I want to run. I want to feel. I want to share. I want to learn. I want. My heart feels full, but not in the sickly, uncomfortable way it did when the alien attackers invaded. My belly feels full, but isn't screamingly upset the way it was when there was nothing but garbage filling it. My eyes see! This strange, tingly emotion fills every bone, every vein, every nerve ending. "You" tells me it is love. "You" soothingly chants that it is no more change. "You" calls it "hope". H-hope?
Hope. I like this. Hope. I test it out. It doesn't taste bitter. I like it more. I test it again. It feels reassuring. I like it even more. I test it further. It sounds smooth and steady. I like it a lot. I test it. It smells sweet. I really like it! Hope. Hope. Hope. One last test. It looks... It looks... It looks... What is that word? I've heard it somewhere. It was just a whisper then. Yes. Home. It looks like home. I love it!
"You". Hope. Home. A place where the dogs have names.
With hope,
Dunkan
(Written by Amanda)
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