Dear Fellow Spartanite,
I don’t know under what circumstances you will receive my letter. I don’t know how you will find me, and through whom. It probably won’t be the headline of this blog. But you will find me, for we are one of a kind, we are mainly alone, and we hide. But you will recognise my words in your heart that you hide from others.
I know you hide your talent and your brilliance, because this world is evil. And filled with evil people. Most people in this world are evil. You have known this from a young age, and you have had to endure every obstacle to have some shard of sanity left. That is our Karmic fate. The Spartanite templating, comes at a high price. The price is often our mortality. Capable and incredible as we are, our life is a war that many normal women will never understand. They have a long history of coddling, protection, and a lack of genuine understanding of how strong and bold, a Spartanite needs to be to even survive her life. Many weakened men will despise and hate you, for you remind them of their own shortcomings. Press on anyway.
The day is dark, but the night is young. I know how lonely you can often feel because I know what it feels like to have people use you for what they can get from you. Or rather what they FEEL they can get. You have fought a war, and continue to fight it because evil is everywhere. In every nook and cranny. In your family, as mine has been, in your friends that you need to sift and sort all the time, and in your waking life. Evil is everywhere. I repeat myself to state a point. You are not paranoid. You’re realistic. Don’t let anyone try and talk you out of that.
You are not safe anywhere which is why I pen you this letter, making you aware of your own innocence, naivety, yet brevity of thought. This world doesn’t like those who possess light, and who can shine. Spartanite, they will drop kick you in the deep Amazonian forest. Your enemies will drop kick you in that jungle, to believe you will NEVER return to the light of day. You will, my dear. You will. That’s what it means to be a Spartanite. That’s what it means to have lava instead of blood run through your veins. You are special and this is something I cannot say to many. We are given a strength that few human beings are left with anymore. When you feel you cannot take the pain anymore, that is a good sign.
It means something dramatic is going to move for you.
Listen to your intuition. She is always right. Let go of who wants to be gone. Do not chase. Do not ask. You are the driver that drives in the desert alone, and with wandering companions of your thoughts, and the occasional honourable human being that is near enough impossible to find in today’s age. Yes, this world is that sick and twisted. People don’t hate you, as much as they hate your determination and your courage. You will never be beaten or defeated. Our femininity is holding a sword, armed for blood in a beautiful pink dress. Sometimes, you may have to forget the dress and wrap a sheet around you and go to war. When your enemy calls, sometimes you need a sword, and sometimes you do not.
Spartanite, don’t be upset for those who are envious. They are commonplace, as furniture is in a room. You should come to accept them as the sun rises and sets each day. Get used to it and arm yourself with a good pair of sunglasses and sunscreen if necessary. Do it in your way, and in your own circumstances. I have seen Spartanites broken and destroyed, come back to life after they died, like I did. So you will heal, and recover. You will prosper, thrive and shine. You will have days of hopelessness. Yes, normal women have it much easier than us. This is not your imagination. Their destiny isn’t ours. They don’t have a battle to fight. In your heart, sometimes, you will wish you were like them. Safe, placid, and having an easy life. The templating given to us, is not easy. Planes do not take off with the wind, but against them. Everything we achieve and attain in our life, we must fight for. Rest if you may, but find tiny things to keep you going. A song. A conversation with someone. A blog post. A drive. A walk to your local park. Anchor this to yourself.
We learn to fight at a young age. I don’t know what happened to you, but I learned to fight as a little girl. I will fight till the day I die. I know you don’t want to be brave. I know you are tired. I know, I know, I know. That is part of the Spartanite templating, perhaps a curse some see it as, perhaps it is a blessing. This, I am unsure of. Spartanite, like all women of our nature, there are parts of us that will forever be dead from the Plutonian pain we have suffered. Those parts will never be alive again, but those parts do not contain your SPIRIT. Your spirit isn’t dead. So you are very much alive. You may not feel alive, but you are alive. You may feel you’re crawling, bloodied, and bruised on broken glass, but you’re alive. And that is what makes you special. Your brilliance DESPITE what you have endured.
Being a Spartanite, is a noble crown of honour.
Don’t let anyone tell you any different. You are loved. I died many times, to write you this letter.
Please make good use of it.
