I Learned Something

A Story by AM Zdunczyk

Cuba, relationships, and very cliche ending that I'm rather unhappy with.

The other day the Cuban Revolution came across my mind and the notion of power struck me. It can be used both for good and bad, and it can easily turn good-intentions into the worst of the worst occurrences. Men become consumed with it, as can be seen in the Cuban Revolution, along with numerous other occurrences in history. Fidel Castro led the 26th of July Movement in hopes of bringing communism to Cuba, something that he genuinely thought was in the nation’s best interests. In theory, it would end the poverty that consumed the area and promote the commonwealth of the people. As he took city after city, weakening Bautista’s reign, he acquired more and more power.
As the leader of a revolution and a new government, Castro needed this power greatly. Had he kept sight of his original goal, his communist utopia might’ve been a reality. The problem with the formation of all communist utopias, however, is how distracted their leaders become in the presence of the immense power they seize. While communism demands complete equality, their leaders find themselves above the law, as Castro did. Castro was drunk with his power, displaying it in rash outbursts, essentially hurting the budding nation. He lost sight of what he needed that power for.
Over the past few months, I found myself acquiring a great deal of power, far more than what I was used to, or what I particularly wanted. In comparison to the power Castro acquired, it was absolutely miniscule, but relative to my life, it was all the power in the world.
At one point in my life, a boy was present. Out time together ended many years ago with my shattered heart lying across the floor. I felt hurt, used, alone, and worthless among other things, and I vowed for vengeance. Stuck in a dark place for many years, it was a long, rocky, unstable road to recovery for me. I loathed the presence of others, of his name, of myself, and of anything that generally promoted happiness in my life. I stewed in my hate, waiting and wishing for my chance at retribution. Eventually I got over it because I realized that I was above the petty high school heartbreak scene. I didn’t need him"it was more important that I needed myself. I found myself as an independent state sitting in a sea of f**k-offs that I couldn’t care less about. Concerned with only the welfare of myself, I closed myself off to the world. In the building of the new, independent, self-esteemed me, I showered myself in communist sentiment, loving all parts of me equally, even the parts I didn’t love so much, like my stubborn disposition or belly fat.
I eventually found myself as whole as I’d ever be and even though every day is not a good day, I’m fairly content with who I am. Things were going well in my life and the boy had almost faded from memory when he decided to walk back in my life. The fact that he wanted to be there was incredible in its own, but what really struck me was that he said he wanted to know what it would take to have me back. Years ago I would have killed to name the price at which he could be mine again. He would have felt every last bit of my heartbroken fury. Here he was, coming to me on his knees, asking for a sweet return. I could have struck him down, I could have embraced him as I once wanted, I could have reminded him of how much he owed me for the two years of silence between us"but I didn’t
In response to his presence, I said nothing. Cloaked in my silence, I felt all powerful. He was looking for something, a sign for him to either reject or rejoice in. He needed something to go on, something to give him tangible hope or shut him down. He was prepared for anger, for rage, for the improbable chance of us getting back together, but not this. I had no need for the power he gave me, nor did I desire it. In realizing this, I found I had more power over myself than I previously thought. I didn’t need the retribution or the boiling vengeance that washed over me in previous years. More importantly, I didn’t need him, nor did I need the power he gave me. In my solitude, I had created a self-sufficient state. Isolation and the abandonment of power allowed me to find a deeper, more fulfilling sense of power in myself.
Perhaps the greatest display of power is to let things take their own course. Had Castro let the revolution taken its own course, it might’ve turned out differently. Had Castro not ruled with such absolute power, the communist revolution in Cuba wouldn’t have been met with so much resistance. Power grants its wielder with the ability to use force, which Castro took full advantage of, but the use of force does not display power. If anything, the use of force shows a desire to play God. Everything needs to be certain; everything needs to be according to plan. Force is the fear of what might happen in the lack of power. True power, however, is the decision to let go of desire for force. I let go of my desire to force him to feel how I once felt and found I had the power to be free and let others be free.