George Orwell’s Animal Farm and benjamin’s perspective

Boxer has died from overwork and is gravely ill in this monologue. Via his monologue, Benjamin expresses his thoughts on Boxer’s plight and the situation in Animal Farm:
The silence is a painful experience. This audience is filled with desperation, hopelessness, and sorrow. Nonetheless, I know it will grow larger, just to see the desolation that will befall our age. I can’t bear seeing Boxer in this condition. I can see what used to be in his gleaming eyes though my bitterness; diligence, now absolutely replaced with desperation. In…Out. In…Out. With each struggling breath he takes, I get more enraged at those who have done this to him. The truth is, I should have known what was coming, I should have done something about it, I shouldn’t have accepted this painful misery, I…I…

How did we end up here? I remember the very day when Jones was our leader, then came the rebellion and now Boxer is at the mercies of these heartless pigs. I remember how cynical I was when these fellows told me to join in the revolution. Look how right I have been all this while. My exceptional righteousness and belief that nothing can ever change has warranted my friend’s turmoil. I have been wrong, I know I am very wicked standing here aimlessly staring at Boxer who needs more, more than my pity.

Like a ticking bomb, I’m slowly engulfed by rage within my own thoughts – anything could set me off. From the very moment the sheep bleated “four legs good, two legs bad” I knew this so-called rebellion would become corrupt. It is not my fault that I never thought Animal Farm would become a paradise; it seems to me that I was the only one that wasn’t blinded by hope. I’ve seen this never-ending cycle before and it took away the optimist in me. I now know that I should have been the voice for the other animals, but on the other hand – what did we have to lose? We already had nothing and the stupidity of the other animals wasn’t going to help us anyway.

The knacker’s van is pulling in. These idiots really think that the pigs are going to fix Boxer, fools. Only I know the truth of how they are going to slaughter and destroy the only thing that gave me peace. Boxer, I wish you knew that you are the only thing that I had. You gave meaning to my life, you comforted me even without knowing it and you silently gave me hope that maybe one day our world will know true leadership. Poor Boxer, his fate has finally caught up to him. His strength finally failed. I could never bring myself to tell Boxer what was going on – if his work gave his life some meaning, I might as well have let him be. Or maybe I just didn’t care, although the thought is a stab to the gut. To be fair, working alongside Boxer is probably the only thing, which kept me sane amongst all these fools. If only I wasn’t the only one who could see the irony in Boxer’s fate: Old Major’s terrible predicament came true. Either win to live, or die trying – it’s not my job to disenthrall us all.

Death? A dead donkey? Impossible, no donkey lives a short life. It is not in our nature. Boxer’s death is something I cannot bear. We donkeys live a very long time and are very wise – how have I allowed them to tyrannise us? It just seemed to me that life would go on as it always has – badly, seeing as we are ruled by a bunch of pigs. I always knew that things would never become better here, but Boxer really does deserve to see the change that he’s always worked towards: justice.

Should I scream? Let them know what’s happening. Let these fools know that dumb Benjamin can speak of atrocities. Boxer’s pain must count. See the shock on their faces; do they think I don’t have feelings? –oh yes, I can actually speak. Perhaps I can admit that I am unwilling to get involved until it’s too late. Could it be that the deterioration of Animal Farm is entirely my fault? My infamous words “Donkeys live a long time” are out of place now. My senseless speaking adds up to nothing, I have little effect even towards helping my best friend. Lamenting on the anguish of Boxer’s final moments, torment will live to dominate my remaining years. Even I am inconsolably wracked with the pain of unanswered dreams this time.

It’s too late. Our enemies, there they are, walking on their two hind legs, their shadows dancing behind them almost forming human-like silhouettes. These pigs are a true definition of rotten characters, vermin and destructive creatures. The crooked van is leaving, commotion dies down, hysteric sounds slowly evaporate and the piercing voice within me goes higher. I’m sad to say I’m losing the battle with myself. Maybe I already have.

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