Our family was torn apart ever since I can remember. My dad was taken by unseen forces, leaving my mother behind to fend for us all.
While we were growing up, we rarely left the trench of a place we called home. It wasn’t much, but it sheltered us from the world, a place that gets scarier by the day.
Every once in awhile we’d spot the neighbors. They looked at us, and we them, at a loss for words. It was a mutually silent relationship, for both of the parties involved knew the inevitable. And so did I.
But I was determined to make a difference.
I was committed to save my kin from suffering at hands of people larger than them. Though committed or not, I saw one after another toted away. Drawn into darkness as they gave up on their lives.
Days dragged by, and nights were determined to match them.
And as the day came that I was also dragged into darkness, I felt the hopelessness that my brethren had experienced. I went limp in the hands of my capturers, the bringers of the fear, the suffering.
I realized only then that I lived a miniaturized life, insignificant to others. Unknown by most, and uncared coupled with it.
Before the full front of the revelation could soak through me, I myself was soaked, cleaned, skinned, and shaved into little pieces to be put onto a salad.
Life sucks being a carrot.