Disclaimer: I don't own the Giver, or anything related toit.:D
It is the daily ritual for everyone in the community. It is all so natural to everyone; life seemed to have a purpose. But I don't get the purpose that seems to exist in their minds. I am the only one that realizes that there is no goal in their lives; just meaningless existence.
Every night, family-units sit around a table and discuss what they call feelings. They describe their anger, their sadness, and their fears. But they weren't real emotions. They were just saying what they thought they felt.
But no matter how hard I would try to convince them about real memories, and real feelings, they wouldn't understand. Either that, or they didn't want to. I doubt that anyone told the truth, despite the rule against lying. I didn't expect that either.
This past month has been hectic. My Assignment was to be the new Receiver. They mentioned pain in the introductory speech, but the pain I prepared myself for wasn't what I received. At first, it was moments of true happiness: parties, the beach, sunshine, and even colors. But the Giver, the old Receiver, had to give me pain. It was his job to give me every memory, good or bad. But it was more pain than just a cut or a bruise. I understood the real meanings of anger, fear, jealousy, and sadness. I experienced events and feelings that were erased from the surreal world that I have lived. And it had gotten to be too much.
Daily, I struggled to deal with the images I saw in my mind. Even still, I knew that there had to be worse feelings than poverty, hunger and terror. And the thought remained on my mind permanently. I tried so hard to be strong; I was trying as hard as I could to be brave. But it was getting to be too much. I was only five weeks into my training, but I couldn't handle it.
My final day with the Giver was solemn. He was trying to make me happy, he was trying to make me laugh like I would after a boat ride, or a trip down a hill in the swirling snow. I couldn't laugh. I was too afraid of what else I would endure. It was all I could think about. And so I stood, kissed the Giver's cheek fondly, and asked to be released.
I don't know what could be worse than my memories of pain. And I'm glad about that.