Letter to Celia: On Your Own

Posted on Wed Jun 17th, 2015 @ 3:10am by Lieutenant Nicolette De La Croix

[[To: Celia Villiers, Adelaide Colony, Erus 3]]

Celi Doll,

Gracious, girl, you're the last person that I thought I'd get a message from. I've always been proud of your ability to keep both feet on the ground and your chin pointed upwards, so when you tell me that things are bad- you know that I'm listening and I believe you. I'm sure that you're getting a ton of advice pouring in from mother and the girls about how you need to hang in tight and be a good obedient wife and forgive, forgive, forgive and beg for him to come back, but you know me, Celi. I won't tell you to be an obedient anything. In fact, I'm not going to tell you to do anything because you're a grown woman. You know what you need. You know what you want. You might not know how to get it just yet, but that'll come as soon as you put your will towards the purpose and start marching to your own drum.

Right now it might feel like Alan leaving is a terrible thing. Your house is quiet, your bed is empty, but love- it's temporary. Plenty of endings feel like the world comes tumbling down to crush you at first. Once you calm down and start breathing again, you'll see the opportunities in the landslide. You were living in Alan's world, not yours. You dressed for him, cooked his food, adopted his tastes, wore his idealized version of you- and I understand why, trust me. Any ticket out of mother's home was worth the price. Now that he's gone, though, your life is yours, Celi.

Think about it: for the first time in your life no one is telling you who to be. Not mama, not Alan, not a company rep. No one's slapping an emblem on your arm or a ring on your finger and claiming ownership. No one's appointing you a task and telling you that this is now who you are. You have choice. You have freedom. Alan's just unlocked a universe of opportunity for you, Celi, and the only person holding the keys to your prison now is you.

So who are you going to be? Mrs. whomever's next? Disposable company asset with a sixteen digit ID instead of a name? Failed woman-child running back home to mother? Or will you choose for yourself this time? Most likely these questions made you angry, but trust me: that's a good thing. You wouldn't believe what a powerful motivator anger is when you've got nothing left to lose. Harness it right and nothing will get in your way, little sister.

I won't tell you what to do: never have, never will. My wish for you is that you'll look in the mirror really hard- just look at yourself- and ask if you've had enough living out everyone else's wants for you. If you have, you'll find that I've transferred credits into an account in your name with Vrishti & Associates. Maybe you'll buy out your contract and travel to Earth. Maybe you'll find a quiet bar somewhere and sing your heart out for lonely spacers. Maybe you'll settle on some odd little colony and have eighty kids with a farmer. Honestly, doll, I don't care what you do so long as you're happy- not because you're told that you should be- but because you are.

Control is an awful illusion. We were tricked into thinking early on that this was best for us. That someone else knew better because we were frailer, stupider, weaker than whoever it was holding the pen. Whether it was a rep or a husband or wife or mother, herself, and it's gone on for too many damn years now. All of us deserve to be ourselves, Celi. Even Samiel, and you know how I feel about that bunch of lazy bones. Now is your chance for a clean break. A new start. Find your voice, Celi doll, pick a star and go. There's no harm in trying, only in looking back and wishing that you had.

Message me back when you get where you're going and you've had some time to wear your own skin. I love you, Celia. I love whoever you become, too. Just wherever you pick, please girl, make it somewhere safe. Keep your ears on the newscasts and buy yourself a good gun. I'm off to hell in a hand basket, so think good thoughts for me. I'll message you back when I can.

Love,
Nica