I looked at them and I wondered.
“Do they not think themselves vulgar?”
“Have they no conscience?”
“Why are they so happy?”
“What kind of life is that to live?”
I swore not to be like them. If I had the power they had, I would use it for a much better cause, I thought. There are still true people, good people, the garden’s people, in the world. I believed I was one of them.
But I wanted power, and so I was not, and I am not.
I look at myself and I wonder.
“I am not who I used to be, for better. No, worse.”
“I was so cruel, still am.”
“I looked down on them, I thought myself mighty. How?”
“I have become something like them.”
I have failed, truly, for I did not start better, did not become bad. We were born on the same plane, and it was within both of our grasps to become better. We both fell, I after you.
But I will rise again, and you will stay down.
I swear it, not to you.
But to me.