posted on Oct, 3 2012 @ 01:52 PM
The lonely ant named You.
I am an ant crawling through the grass, aware of the flying bees above. They look down on me, both literally and figuratively.
They pay no attention for I am nothing; compared to them.
They flap their wings sporadically, landing on each flower. They pay careful attention. Their duty is fulfilled. Yet here I stand. I hold my torch, I
can see my path clearly. It does not match up.
They provide for this world that I, they, and many others live in. Appreciated in nature, the bees are a prideful race. I am alone. The other ants
have left. My friends and family did not desire to stand up for their rights. I did. So here I am. Lonely in a world populated by so many others.
Being an ant is not something you choose, it is how you are born. Growing in a world of disrespect, lack of understanding, and racism in every moment.
So what if I cannot contribute to the flow of resources in the same way bees do. I do my part.
I am carrying my belongings on my waistline. I practically have nothing. Just some basic food; crumbs that I did not steal! They think I must have
stolen it though.
On my back I have a pack, full of the pollen that fell to the ground! I carry the possessions of fallen bees, and the letters for their families. I do
my part, but to them I do nothing at all.
It is easy for them to do what I do in a matter of seconds. It takes days to bring those letters to families, and months to find a bee willing to
trade a ride for some fallen pollen. They say I should just quit like my family and friends did. Give up on life and leave. They say they can pick up
the fallen pollen with their trash crews in a fraction of the time it takes me to do so. They can carry their fallen friends instead of just a
I am strong, but it is too much for me to carry multiple fallen bees on my back for days on end when I already struggle with the letters.
Time passes. Comes and goes. It is always the same. Just another cloud of darkness and a slim passing of light. Each day. Hour. Minute. Second.
I come to a city of bees. The elite. These ones don’t die if they sting you so I feel frightened for my life. With one movement I could lose my life
and all that I am working for.
They don’t understand me, but on a much worst level than the normal bees along my journey so far.
They wear their posh clothing, wing guards, and speak in odd languages. The pollen they carry is not held by them or on their backs. They have slaves
for that. Me.
I became a slave when I asked for a ride from the wrong bee! She was sassy, and her foreign language was slurred as she drank from some tiny piece of
an acorn. No idea what it was. I didn’t like it. The ropes were tied around me, preventing me from moving too fast; which is slow enough. She said
it had nothing to do with me escaping. She could easily catch me. This was about dominance and making me feel uncomfortable and trapped.
Three months pass, the darkness stays potent, and the light slims exponentially each day. It is cold. I can no longer carry even the smallest of
things. I was more productive as a free ant! That is just a memory now. I don’t love my life now, but I accept it. I am used to it. It’s still
Another week or so passes and I finally see another ant! I’ve been the only one in a see of crippled and mentally ill grasshoppers, weak flies, and
insane crickets. An ant though! An ant! Excitement rushes through my body, giving me strength. I approach him...no. Her. No hmm. I’m not sure if
it’s a guy or a girl. It’s been so long. An ant cannot simply crawl and check for these things. Manners must be shown!
I have forgotten all that I had worked for. I let my beliefs become thoughts from past times. What has happened? Oppression. Death. Imprisonment. I
know I accepted it, but how did I let myself do that?
I get the courage, for the first time in a long time, to say something out loud. I get slapped by some ignorant fly that got out of slavery by
snitching on the weekly Grasshopper Gambling & Cocktail party participants.
“No talking you ant!”
Fine. I’ll just listen. I poke the other ant.
They respond, and they do not speak with the voice of a boy or girl. Man or woman; no. They speak with authority and almost as if they represent all
of the beliefs I once held! Their speech is not meant for themselves, but for ALL ants. A prophet for my own life. It is what I need.
A week later I still haven’t found the ant again. Nobody remembers such an ant. In fact apparently there is no such thing as Grasshopper
bloopadoopah-whatever the heck I thought it was night. There was no snitching fly. It was all in my mind.
The ant was no real ant. It was the return of my own beliefs and thoughts!
A few months pass. I am still a slave. I have rights though. I can now speak! Advocate for the slaves, to improve our lives as well as the ruling bees
above. You see, if us slaves and the bees could at least agree on certain things then we would be more willing to do work! Our food rations have
increased. We even have the possibility of earning wages after putting in work.
I’m still a slave though. I cannot leave.
Two years later. I have passed the life expectancy for an ant by far. I guess it’s the proteins and important nutrients I got included in our food
rations that I should thank for that. We are no slaves. We are not equals though either. We still must work for the bees above. However, we can attend
meetings, events, and other exciting things! The most important things though is that in one month they will implement my latest idea! All travelers,
no matter their status, must complete one full month of work for the highly classes bees. After that they are free to leave! It is an initiation into
EVERYONE, no matter their race or class, having to do their part to improve the community.
Three months pass. Our rights have been taken away. A new Queen rules over us. There is no chance of leaving or gaining acceptance into the city as an
I shall not give up. I shall work hard, no matter the circumstances and no matter what - I will never surrender my beliefs, rights, and desire to
improve the world.
Oh and by the way. My name is You.