I was unsure how to open this letter, as in truth I have only come to know your name very recently. It seems odd to think that you have been with me all this time, so integrated into my daily life, and not once had I truly seen you. I did not even know to look.
Though, I suppose that is how you have always worked, and how those who might be of your vocation in real life might even prefer to work.
You are, of course, a bodyguard—though, it is a disservice to leave your title so generic, and with the warzones you have passed through it is more realistic to liken you to a solider. Even then, though, you are more of a Special Forces operator than anything: someone who remains unseen, and has to adapt and react to any situation without direct assistance (or maybe any assistance) from a higher authority.
Your mission has always seemed simple on the surface, right? It was to simply survive, after all; it was not something that many would reason to be so difficult in an era where one can visit a grocery store to find food, and visit hospitals when seriously ill. After all, you were with me, a girl who had two parents, a more than comfortable home to live in, and had no want of food, drink, or material things.
But we have never believed in physical things being the root of all good, right? Sometimes those gilded pleasures are more of a cage than anything. Maybe that is what you walked into.
I do not really know when you arrived. Was it the first time I was yelled at by my parents for being attention seeking? Was it when my little sister was born, and I was confused as to why I did not feel as important as I was before? Or were those fine, and you did not appear until I met others my own age and discovered that I did not fit—like a puzzle piece that was in the wrong box?
It must have been an unseemly visual either way for you to take one look and conclude that this was life or death, that I was helpless and in need of your protection. Was that fair to yourself, I wonder? After all, you were no older than me; but you were born of hardship. Perhaps that was the only difference between us.
And since you have come, I have never been alone. You have done so much from the shadows, using what you knew and what you learned to keep me safe. You are my biggest ally, and I know that every single thing you have done has been for me.
That is why I want to say thank you. The world outside is dangerous, and often frightening and overwhelming. You led me through the dark when I would have been likely to give up and simply wait to waste away.
This could not have been easy.
And that is why, my proud solider, I am hereby relieving you of duty. I cannot give you a medal like some war heroes, but in my mind you have earned one a thousand times over. It is because of you that I am able to stand here today and write you, and I think it is time that our relationship is no longer as one sided as it had been in the past.
Your protection has allowed me to grow, and with my new perspective I believe I am capable of handling whatever hardships come my way. You have taught me to no longer be the damsel in distress, waiting for you to come and be my knight; instead, I am ready to enter the officer's academy on my own and learn to fend for myself.
I am no longer the bleeding child, so blinded by her own tears that I could not face dangers. All these years, you have been the one leading the way, me little more than a frightened responsibility for you to watch over—but now I can help you.
You deserve a rest after so many years of perpetual service, and though none other than me may ever know who you are, I am honored that you thought I was worthy enough to devote such efforts to. After all, if you were willing to go to such lengths, why should I do any less for myself?
I am old enough now to know that life is not going to be perfect; no war is without cost, after all. You strove so hard to keep my heart from hurting, and perhaps when I feel that first discomfort you might think I have betrayed you, your mission, and all the work that you have done for me. Still, my friend, there are more than just bad types of pain. Growth is painful. Change is painful. That does not mean, however, what will be beyond those discomforts is not worth the temporary struggle.
We will never know unless we walk forward, and I think we are both tired of running from trench to trench, dodging familiar bullets and reopening the same wounds.
You have done so well with what you knew, and now I, with the years of experience I have earned because of your strength and grace, can lead us to a different place. Allow me to take the baton so that you might rest.
I promise, when you wake up, the world is going to be a bit brighter. Then, maybe, we can be more like equals—you have dedicated so much—done so much—there is no reason you should not be rewarded too; after all, we only got this far because of you.
Sincerely,
K
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