1/27/02
A/N: This is a bit like the dying thoughts of a Dragon Slayer. It could be any one of them, I suppose. As a matter of fact, except for a few sentences in the first and last paragraphs, this could fit somebody else too… Written in first person, present tense. Read and Review, please! I will accept flames, too!
You treat us like we are nothing. Like we are worthless dolls that can be discarded at any moment and replaced. I wonder why I haven't given up on you…why I haven't just left this accursed place. This whole world, once beautiful, now reeks of the acrid stench of war. And the bitter irony is that I'm lending a hand in its destruction.
These lives we lead… Sometimes I don't understand why we all have to keep going round and round in circles like we do…why we can't ever break the cycle of hatred and revenge. It never ends, does it? It never stops until no one is left…until no one is left to regret the many mistakes humanity has made…
I used to look at a cadaver on the battlefield with horror, the smell of sweat, blood, and burnt flesh flooding my nostrils, an odor only describable as: like death. I am indifferent now to dead bodies, but the bittersweet scent remains. It haunts me, and I am alarmed to find I faintly carry the odor as well.
But perhaps what terrifies me is that I'm starting to lose my recollection of the past. My memories are no more than a shadow of what once was. I can't remember my little sister's face… I don't know Mother's hair color… I can't even summon up my brother's name anymore… All that I can clearly recall starts from when I joined the army. In comparison, everything else seems trivial (and maybe it is). Even so, it is distressing nonetheless, so much, in fact, that I try to put such things out of my mind, for fear it will drive me mad.
The only time I really can picture my life before the war is when I dream. But that seldomly occurs, and even when it does, if I vainly attempt to grasp whatever inkling of an image I received, it quickly fades, ever elusive, leaving me emptier than before…
And for what? For you… I gave up my home, my family, and my life for you. We all did…and we would do it again… in this eternity or the next.
A/N: This is a bit like the dying thoughts of a Dragon Slayer. It could be any one of them, I suppose. As a matter of fact, except for a few sentences in the first and last paragraphs, this could fit somebody else too… Written in first person, present tense. Read and Review, please! I will accept flames, too!
You treat us like we are nothing. Like we are worthless dolls that can be discarded at any moment and replaced. I wonder why I haven't given up on you…why I haven't just left this accursed place. This whole world, once beautiful, now reeks of the acrid stench of war. And the bitter irony is that I'm lending a hand in its destruction.
These lives we lead… Sometimes I don't understand why we all have to keep going round and round in circles like we do…why we can't ever break the cycle of hatred and revenge. It never ends, does it? It never stops until no one is left…until no one is left to regret the many mistakes humanity has made…
I used to look at a cadaver on the battlefield with horror, the smell of sweat, blood, and burnt flesh flooding my nostrils, an odor only describable as: like death. I am indifferent now to dead bodies, but the bittersweet scent remains. It haunts me, and I am alarmed to find I faintly carry the odor as well.
But perhaps what terrifies me is that I'm starting to lose my recollection of the past. My memories are no more than a shadow of what once was. I can't remember my little sister's face… I don't know Mother's hair color… I can't even summon up my brother's name anymore… All that I can clearly recall starts from when I joined the army. In comparison, everything else seems trivial (and maybe it is). Even so, it is distressing nonetheless, so much, in fact, that I try to put such things out of my mind, for fear it will drive me mad.
The only time I really can picture my life before the war is when I dream. But that seldomly occurs, and even when it does, if I vainly attempt to grasp whatever inkling of an image I received, it quickly fades, ever elusive, leaving me emptier than before…
And for what? For you… I gave up my home, my family, and my life for you. We all did…and we would do it again… in this eternity or the next.