Original posted on facebook. Just felt like posting it here as well.
Greetings comrades. You have all been tagged in this note because a victory has been achieved today. A battle I have fought hard to obtain and grasp in the clutches of my burdened hands for over three years. Today marks a victory not only for myself, but for proletarians struggling world wide to free themselves from bourgeois tyranny.
I must admit, this battle has been long and filled with difficulty for some time, I thought perhaps I would never see this day come to fruition. There were days when I thought I would forever face defeat from the bourgeoisie that steal our capital in every way possible. Many times my fellow comrades would ask of me, 'Why did you not answer us?' or 'Is everything ok?' and I would be unable to give reply because of this burden.
I had said to myself when the April 19th movement began that I would have this burden vanish into the dustbins of my memory ASAP. However days turned into weeks and weeks turned into days. I thought this would be another year that I would be left behind while others moved ahead of me. There were many of you tagged that inspired me to push forward and I thank you for this. I will not name names. You know who you are comrades. These people knew what I dealt with and how troublesome it could be.
For others, you did not even know this was something I dealt with everyday of my life. When my struggle first began, I told myself that others would not hear of my struggle. I would not cast myself into the martyr stranglehold so many before me had fallen into. Thrown in and recognized for some time, but eventually forgotten. No, I said to myself. I would not make myself a martyr but would achieve what many thought the impossible.
It is ironic that my victory over the bourgeoisie was not realized on purpose but rather by accident. For that I must give a shout out to Comrade Stephy Rose, for without her I would not have known about my accomplishment and would have kept the beautiful struggle onward.
Alas it was another normal day in the life that is Aasin Pena. I had just finished reading some pages from the Koran when I thought to myself of how I did not have my cellular device at my side. I searched for it sometime before thinking it must be upstairs in my room. So I went upstairs, those stairs going endlessly onward like my struggle I though to myself. Finally I reached the top! A victory but a minor one compared to my other struggles.
As I reached the door I thought of all the years without this service and how some took it for granted. Everyday I saw many just use it and brush it aside as if it were nothing. Selfish and blinded these people are. For so long I tried to show them the light but they would not listen to how lucky they really were. Finally I entered my room and there it was, simply laying on my anarchist bed. Laying next to it, I looked at my cellular device. For over four years I've had this same phone. My original phone, the phone that took over my virgin ears and entered me into the cyber network. How grateful I was and still am to this phone which is why I have never changed it. I take care of my things because I cherish them and use them for what they are worth as much as possible.
So I open the phone and what I see baffles me. At first I thought surely that I must be in a dream. To be sure I pinch myself. The pain sears through my skin but I do not wake up. My breathing intensifies. This isn't a dream. This is reality! My dream has finally come true. My phone, after losing its ability to send text messages for over three years, is now showing me that I have a text message from Stephy Rose. Quickly I reply back and think to myself of all the wonders that I now have yet again at my fingertips. This honor bestowed upon me was lost before, but never again shall I give it up and I shall shall respect it to the fullest.
Thank you comrades. Please show your support by contacting me. You know the means of which to contact me. The struggle is still continuing because it is only halfway done but alas I grow weary of writing. My eyes droop and my mind demands sleep. So I must lay down my fingers and give the thoughts time to breath.
