Complaint

He. Wants. Food. Not just any food, but meat. Sure, they had enough grain every day to keep hunger at bay, but eating the same thing all the time makes them all tired – tired in the stomach, which in turn makes them physically tired as well.

He has so quickly forgotten the cost that comes with eating well in a country where they were slaves. He’s forgotten how he, too, had complained during that time, not so much about the food, but the amount labour they were forced to do. The very same backbreaking labour that turned all their food into delicacies and necessities to be cherished and longed for after a day’s worth of oppression.

Now that they’re all free, his idea of freedom hasn’t quite met up with his expectations, and it makes him angry. Annoyed. Tired in a different way.

Freedom hasn’t been all sunshine and roses, and as long as it doesn’t remain as a dream or an idea, he’ll continue to complain, and wish for the past that he thought he could leave behind.

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