The other day I thought about Valerie's letter from V for Vendetta. I love how pure, true, and unashamed she is. How she portrays nothing but love. Even to the stranger that finds her letter.
I know
there’s no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks. But I don’t
care. I am me.
My name is
Valerie. I don’t think I’ll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone
about my life. This is the only autobiography that I’ll ever write, and – God – I’m writing it on toilet paper.
I was born
in Nottingham in 1985. I don’t remember much of those early years. But I do
remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tottlebrook, and she used to
tell me that God was in the rain.
I passed my
eleven plus, and went to a girl’s grammar. It was at school that I met my first
girlfriend. Her name was Sarah. It was her wrists – they were beautiful. I thought
we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was
an adolescent phase that people outgrew.
Sarah did. I didn’t.
In 2002 I
fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I
couldn’t have done it without Chris holding my hand.
My father
wouldn’t look at me. He told me to go and never come back. My mother said
nothing.
I’d only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells
for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the
very last inch of us. And within
that inch, we are free.
I’d always
known what i’d wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I started my first film:
The Salt Flats. It was the
most important role of my life. Not because of my career, but because that was
how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any
other lips but hers again.
We moved to
a small flat in London together. She grew
scarlet carsons for me in our window box. And our place always smelt of roses. Those
were the best years of my life.
But America’s
war grew worse and worse, and eventually came to London.
After that
there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone.
I remember
how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like “collateral”
and “rendition” became frightening. When things like norsefire and the articles
of allegiance became powerful. I remember
how different became dangerous.
I still don’t
understand it: why they hate us so much.
They took
Ruth while she was out buying food. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. It
wasn’t long until they came for me.
It seems
strange that my life should end in such a terrible place. But for
three years I had roses – and apologised to no-one.
I shall die
here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch. But one.
An inch. It is small
and it is fragile, and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must
never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.
I hope that
- whoever you are - you escape this place. I hope that the world turns, and
that things get better. But what I
hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even
though I do not know you, and even though I may not meet you, laugh with you,
cry with you, or kiss you: I love you.
With all my
heart.
I love you.
-Valerie."
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