Ana Larrieu

This government is conducting all preparations so my execution is no longer a matter of debate, but a necessity. Their brainchild supports it, and once their regulations back it, this government will remember that the law exists and apply it ruthlessly. If I am still here, if I am talking, breathing, laughing, crying, eating, shitting, and snoring, it is because their preparations remain ongoing. I expect their visit anytime. I will resist them while I can, though I count the days until they knock on my door. That will be the last day I see my home, and the last day I hope I could be deemed a full human and citizen. I was told that could be the case here.

I would be sad if I died. I do not want to die. But please, if I do, do not let them take over my body. I do not want to be dressed in a suit. I do not want my hair cut short. I do not want to have any signs of my earned femininity concealed. 

I do not want to be buried in soil that has been earmarked for rituals that despise me. I do not want the lamentations of the detached audience, who show enough pity while they revel in the certainty that I died because I chose differently. I do not want to confirm their wisdom to not do so for themselves. 

I do not want to be buried next to a tombstone with a name I did not choose. I do not want my memory to strengthen the lies that serve someone else’s cynical politics. I do not want to be remembered as a troubled man or son, for I was neither of those in the first place.

If this were to happen, please knock on my tombstone. Be loud. Shout if you need to. I will hear you and wake up. I will climb out by myself, though I could be a bit stiff from being murdered. I will tear the bottom of my pants so they become cute shorts, make a crop top out of the suit jacket, and a scarf out of the muted tie on my chest. I will mess with my hair to add some volume, and take off my dress shoes to feel the fresh soil. We will go away, far away from this mess, to be much closer to a place where I was first seen and loved. Where I belonged. 

Once we get there, I want to bid farewell to those I truly regretted leaving behind after my unannounced departure. I want to journey to the top of a hill and settle under the shade of an anonymous tree. Please tag along, though. I might need help digging my grave. Once everything’s ready, I want to watch one more sunset. At night, I will jump in and lean onto the tree’s roots. Lastly, I will thank you for your help and your kindness, and remember that I had been dead. I hope my body can enrich the soil and help the tree grow big and strong, so nobody can take it down.

You can cover me, as to not spook any visitors. And please, if you place a marker or tombstone, write the name I chose for myself write the truth. I want the reader to know that here lies a woman who loved and was loved, who cried and laughed, and who yearned to keep on living.