War and Death

Dear journal.

My job is strange. My job is painful. My job is fun. I love my job. And now I know what love means. My first day went like this: I got to the place, and there was a secretary. She told my boss I was there. And guess what, the door was locked. No where, anywhere are doors allowed to be locked. I went inside the room and there was a pained elder sitting down.He told me to call him “the giver”. He told me to lie down and then he put his hand on my back. And then, I went into another world. My body was still back there but my mind was on a giant mound. “Hill,” my mind told me. There was an object of some kind, “sled”. I looked around me into a blinding shade, “snow”. I got in the sled and it started going down the hill on what I knew were “runners”. But it’s been almost a year since that now. And i have learnt of colors, which was what the apple turned to, red. I have learnt of feelings, pain, happiness, love especially and war. War is horrible, there is death, pain and everything that is bad, is there. But love is great. I HATE the community for taking out feelings. And the other day I saw what REALLY happens when you are released, it is death. I am so angry. With my family, the people, the community. The giver and I have come up with a plan,  a plan to run away from here. A plan to go somewhere with love.