I think you would laugh at me if you knew what I’m doing now, Isa…

I am a clerk at a trade shop. Even writing it makes me hear your snort and laughter. “You? Doing anything outside of arts and combat? That’ll be the day…” Well, the day came, Isa. I try to find humor in this but… I can’t. I am doing what it takes to survive and though there is no shame in doing the work I am doing now, it feels… strange; after all I have endured on my journey to find you.

It makes me think of dad and all the veterans that return from war changed. Should the world find its way back to civilization, would it ever be the same? Will the generations to come be free of the burdens we had to endure? What will be my place? I keep hearing your voice in my head telling me how art will always be there and people like me will be needed to help others start the healing of their souls… but am I still that man? All the blood I’ve shed, the lives I’ve taken… the ones I could have saved but didn’t… will I ever be able to wash all of that away? I keep having this dream where I get on the stage to do a monologue and as I begin to speak the wood floor gives in under me, unable to hold the weight of my crimes, and I fall into an abyss.

Oh, how do priorities change… maybe there will be a time when following dreams becomes acceptable again. Until then… I will survive the dreams I am having while I try to build a path for you to dream again once I find you.

I will find you.

Love,

Sabas