This war left me scarred and broken. It left me torn and unfixable. My comrades, whom have grown to be my new family, have died beside me as gunshots fire everywhere at any given point of the day. We were slowly surrounded and there was no hope to live because we were trapped. My thoughts led me to the worst, and not knowing whether to live by comrades or grovel in my own demise, i felt the heavy weight of the gun in my hand that was grounding me.
Waking in the middle of the night, screaming in pain, never feeling safe, sweat rolls down my face as i fall back into reality. I spend every moment at home feeling vulnerable and surrounded. It wont let me go. The bandages and scars on my body are everlasting memories of battle. The war is my life.
As i sit by the windowsill, i peer through the window to notice the rain falling and hitting the window. The sun hides behind the clouds and doesnt let a ray inside. I got a candle and ive got a spoon and dont want the happiness to fade away. No heavy weight on my chest that held me from taking a full breath.
Feeling lighter, i saw the battlefield again. I saw a leader giving up, and not fighting anymore. I saw how others turned to see their leader was falling apart and they decided to give up. I saw how i failed those that i should have taken care of. I saw the mistakes i made that cost them their lives, while here i am.
As i fall back into reality and the weight comes down upon me, i stumble around and fell on the ground unable to get up. I notice the hollowness, and emptiness as my girlfriend packed up and left, possibly unable to bear the pain i brought to her after the war. An echo in the hallways left unheard.
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