cadet_amara | Resolution Field Log (Reply)

Amara had debated whether or not she should turn this log in to Admiral Pike. Honestly she had not meant it to get so.... personal... but it had. She thought about deleting it and quickly writing another short log on the work she'd done in the cargo bay, but last time she'd done that he'd called her in for a conference. This time, he wanted this log in person. That made it even more nervewracking. Honestly, had she any brains she'd delete the damn thing and write something less... private, more official.

However, she was serious about wanting to make a change. And she felt that putting her anger out there was important to that process. So she had decided to keep the damn log. What was the worst that could happen? Pike decides she's crazy and finally boot her out of the Academy? Or decide the only thing he wanted her around was empty cargo containers? That pretty much seemed to be her current assignment anyway...

And so, with a final sigh, somewhere between defeat and resolution, the Cadet entered the Admiral's office and set the PADD with the dreaded Field Training Log on his desk. She then stood stiffly, waiting for the verdict.

This week I had a lot of time to think about things. Inventory is the most boring and tedious task on the ship. Really. I absolutely hate it, and it seems to be all I was assigned to do this week, and next week, and probably for the next year. The Captain had a conversation with me a while ago, and apparently people are under the impression that I don’t want to be here. Nothing could be further from the truth, and I was surprised to hear someone say this… especially the Captain. Truthfully, I wasn’t aware he even knew I existed short of my first introduction and the day I stumbled upon them all drinking, and even then I wasn’t sure he’d remember I was there as he was a bit preoccupied with… other things. Anyway, the whole conversation upset me. It really did. And it shook me up to almost borderline depression. Though I don’t think I ever really showed it, or expressed it. Honestly, neutral to sad is about the extent of the emotions I usually show people, unless I lose my temper, which when that happens tends to be explosive and gets me into trouble. But most of the time I keep it in and to myself. My case manager once told me that my name should be “Amara Repression Patil”. When I thought about it, while counting empty cargo containers, that’s probably why people think I’m unhappy. That’s not good, because the more I thought about it, the more I realized I don’t know how to fix that.

Eventually, by the time I got to Cargo Bay Four this week, I realized that I probably have never been happy, and that’s the problem. I think I was happy as a little girl, I mean… most people are right? I know I spent most of the time hungry, and stealing from people so my mother would feed me, but when you don’t know any better that’s just normal life, right? Slowly, the system and everything just started to wear me down to the point where I just expect the worst.

I never thought about finish the Academy. I know I shouldn’t admit to that, but I honestly have been waiting for the day when I get thrown out and sent to the next place because I every phase in my life, that’s what happened. I screw up, people give up on me, and off I go to the next place. If I’m going to make anything of my life I have to accept that I am no longer a foster child. I’m no one’s child. While it’s terrible not to have a family or a support system, I’m grown, and it doesn’t matter anymore. I need to make my own.

First though, I need to just let go of my past. It was terrible, who’s wasn’t? I’m sure I’m not the only person out there who’s had a hard life. It’s time to move on from there. My past will not dictate my future anymore. All that anger I carry around inside of me, I need to let go of it. It’s holding me back and dragging me down, and if I let it I’m going to drown in my own resentment.

The question is, how do I do that? When I was a kid Mrs. Jennings, my case manager, recognized that I was probably the angriest kid she’d ever encountered. So one day after a family called her to come get me, she took me on this long hike up the side of a mountain. I forget where we were, it’s not important. But once we got up to a cliff she handed me all these rocks and told me to write on the rocks all the things that were making me angry. All the things I was keeping bottled up, boiling just below the surface. Then she wanted me to throw the rock and scream about it, just to let it out and cleanse my system. I thought she was crazy at the time, and merely played along so she’d take me back inside, otherwise we’d have been there all night. However, what Mrs. Jennings was trying to do makes a lot more sense to me now. So…. since there is an extreme lack of rocks on this ship… and lighting paper on fire is probably frowned upon… consider this my cliff.

The List:

My Mother. I’m angry that she was so weak. I’m angry she was an addict who cared more about herself than her kids. I’m angry she never tried to get help, only dragged us down with her. I’m angry she started my kleptomania, that she taught me that only people who bring home credits deserve food. And I’m angry that despite everything she’s done to me, I still love her, and I’d probably run home the second she called if she told me she was clean and that she needed me. Even though I know she’d probably be lying.

My Brother: I’m angry that the one person who cared for me as a kid left. I’m angry that when I found him he turned out to be an addict like my mother. I’m angry that he died because I still feel like it was my fault. That if I had just been there, done something more, he’d still be alive. I’m angry that I failed him.

My Father: I know it’s stupid to be angry at him because I don’t even know who he is. I guess that’s why I’m angry. He could be perfectly normal and have a happy little wife and kids somewhere… and that makes me angry.

Federation Services: I’m angry that you let me fall through the cracks, and yet you don’t recognize that those cracks even exist. I’m angry that you act so high and mighty when really you probably did just as much damage to me as my dysfunctional addict mother did. It wouldn’t be as bad if someone just nodded my way, and the direction of the other kids like me who just… slipped in those non-existent cracks… and said “ok… we messed up by you… sorry” but you never did. Instead you make statements like “all children receive an education” and “there is no more poverty and starvation on Earth”. I’m positive I was not the only malnourished child who wasn’t sent to school until I was way older than I should have been on the planet. Stop making me feel like an alien in my own home.

So I went through 16 foster placements from seven to when I aged out of the system at eighteen so I’m just going to lump some of them together. I’m angry at all of them, but for different reasons….

The Good Foster Families: I’m angry you gave up on me. I know I didn’t make it easy, but since when is doing good ever easy? Some of you never even gave me a chance to adjust to living with you. I know you meant well, but good intentions aren’t enough. All you really did was teach me not to trust people, even when they mean well. I wish I could sing your praises and commend your efforts, but none of you ever kept me more than a year and a half. There are summer camps that last longer than some of you did. All I can say is at least I was fed, sent to school, and none of you physically abused me, which is more than I can say for some foster families. I guess I should thank you for that but honestly? I’m just angry.

The Bad Foster Families: How could you treat a child the way you treated me? Or let me be treated? I know I was a difficult child, but at the time I wasn’t as tough as I acted. No one deserves to be treated like that, and that’s really all I can say.

The Smiths: You confuse me the most. And I’m angry because of it.

Myself: I’m angry at how weak you are. I’m angry that every time you look in the mirror you can’t see anything but failure. I’m angry that you’re always the slowest in the class, always trying so hard only to find it’s just not working. I hate that you have no confidence, that you give up, and most of all that you run. I’m angry that you won’t let yourself trust anyone, and that you hide in the corner when you know you shouldn’t. I’m angry that you let these things consume so much of your time and energy when you should look to see the positive things in life. I’m even angry that you look so much like your mother, because she isn’t who you want to be. I’m angry that you struggle with things that should be easy, and that you don’t know how to express yourself in a healthy manner. Out of all the people on this list, you are probably the one I’m the most angry at, because you’re the common denominator in all the other things on here. I’m angry because you have always believed there must be something fundamentally the matter with you, and that’s why no one ever kept you. That’s why things just never work out right for you. And I’m angry at how self-centered and whiney you are, because really? No one needs to hear your problems. I’m angry that you can’t just let things go and be happy. You need to.

These are the things that I’m angry about. From here on out, I’m releasing them into the universe. I will no longer be consumed with anger about them, and I will probably never mention them again to anyone. I will no longer allow my anger to define me, and it will no longer hold me back. From here on out, I’m starting a new life. New Amara Smith. I have to or I’ll never get anywhere. Tomorrow is a brand new day.