Summary:
This story takes place in a slightly altered universe, where the town does not have a curse of immortality, and death is not an everyday occurrence - at least not on the same scale. Flippy struggles with inner demons from his actions in the war in a more realistic way. A mysterious fatal disease is on the rise. Rated M for strong language, suggested rape, and suicidal thoughts.
Extended Summary:
This story takes place in a slightly altered universe in which the town that Happy Tree Friends takes place does not have a curse of immortality, and death is not an everyday occurrence - at least not to the extent of the absolute carnage like in vanilla Happy Tree Friends. It's more representative of the real world. Flippy is not possessed by a demonic war-like entity in this story, instead he struggles with his demons in a more realistic way. The Happy Tree Friends have a little more common sense than in vanilla. It's a more realistic take on what it may be like for a returning veteran, especially from a war like Vietnam or the Middle East conflicts. Although this is not a traditional HTF story, at least on this website, it does have it's fair share of death and suffering. Just in a different way. I hope you enjoy! And if you didn't, do not forget to leave a comment of your criticisms. I am happy to improve on any aspect of my writing skills, so I ask that you help me to do that! I do appreciate it! Again, suicide warning! If you feel suicidal, get help! And don't read this story, it likely won't help your situation. It's not weakness to seek out help, it's strength and a desire for change. You can always shoot me a message if you feel the need. Again, this story is meant for mature audiences only.
As I sit on the edge of the cliff high up watching the peaceful sunset, rays of sunlight shine through the clouds creating an ominous yet beautiful scenery. The clouds are the same here as they were in that God forsaken place. The water, the air, the soil, every single aspect of daily life one may take for granted is a reminder. It follows me everywhere I go relentlessly. The sorrow, the regret, the anger, the feeling of impending doom, the flashbacks. It stalks me, like a cliche serial killer in a dark alleyway. It's always on the horizon, just out of view yet close enough to have a feeling of being watched. My time in the war and the actions I took, they changed me. I will never be the same person I was before the war. I took lives, I had lives taken from me, but worst of all, I'm still alive. I don't deserve to be alive, and it's as simple as that. I should be dead, not them.
I deserve to be dead.
Although it wont bring back my friends, I would trade places with them any time. Any one of them. However, I'm still here. I survived, and they didn't. Ever since I got home from the war, I've secluded myself from society. I don't trust anybody, not even myself. For the past two years, I've been running from my problems. I've been avoiding them like a coward. What would my comrades think of me? It doesn't matter now, it's just me and my thoughts. I let them down, I let everybody down and now I have to live with that. The pain that every new day brings me is indescribable. Every single day, I relive my experience in the awful war. Every single day is another fight. Fighting in the war was easy compared to this. You didn't think, you just acted on your instinct and training. A problem presented itself and you knew what to do. This is different. This is hell, like an excruciating itch in which one cannot scratch.
I wonder what would happen if I jumped off this cliff, like many times before. Although, what would it solve? It may be a permanent solution for a permanent problem - because I am totally fucked in the head. Nothing can fix me, although I simply don't have the guts to end it outright. So I come up here every once in a while and ponder, what could I have done differently in the war? What mistakes did I make that were avoidable? What could I have done differently?
It never helps. I can't go back and change what I did wrong. I wish I was never drafted, things would be so different right now. Why we had to get involved in someone else's problems I still cannot figure out to this day. All for some politician's games. I just wish my comrades could have come home alive, and not in a box. That doesn't matter anymore. The damage is already done. I don't know what to do with my life. It's been two years since my war ended, however the conflict is still ongoing and here I am. I feel so small, pathetic, and worthless. If it wasn't for my mental health discharge, I'd still be fighting. I'd still be killing, and I'd still be distracted. My death was bound to happen sooner or later. If only I could have stayed for an extra year, I wouldn't be in this situation right now.
I'm just so unsure of my life anymore. What is my purpose? Why am I here? Just to suffer?
I am defined by what the war has created in me. I am sorrow, regret, anger, fear, and nothing more. I'm sick of it. I used to drink away my pain every day, and it was great for a while, because I forgot exactly who I was and what I witnessed. It was always only temporary, however. The pain always comes back, and the bottle would always be my savior. I wanted a change in my life, so I quit drinking a month ago. The memories have only gotten worse since then. My mind is my own worst enemy, and I am sick of it controlling my life.
Things have only gotten worse since I quit. The memories come back in more detail than ever before, and I don't know what to do. What can I do? I've tried everything. Therapy, medication, meditation, everything. You think of it, and I've tried it. Nothing removes the pain in my life quite like the bottle, although maybe I deserve this pain. Life is like a cruel joke. You may think you are here for a greater purpose, but eventually it'll slap you in the face. I was once an ignorant kid, blinded by patriotism and the urge to fulfill some bull shit sense of duty. It'll let you know what the grim reality is right when you think you are in your prime. We are truly cruel beings, and life really is a bitch. It always has been. Maybe I just have a twisted view on life, although if life gave you what it gave me, you'd understand my prospective.
It's getting late now and it's starting to rain. It's time to head back home.