They say that time heals all wounds. They don't know what they're on about.
They know that with time, visual wounds like a scar will heal but they
don't know that if time really does heal the emotional wounds it would heal
the wounds so deep that you will remember that one moment when you were
wounded so badly forever.
I'm back from the Korean 'police-action' and I'm back in Crabapple Cove. I'm back where I was born, and I'm back in the house where I grew up. But I wish that I was back the way I was before I was in Korea.
I have wounds. War wounds. War wounds like you've never seen, like you've never felt, like you've never imagined. They're not from a bullet, or shrapnel oh no, they run deeper than a wound so easily fixed by a doctor. You can't even see them, even if I were to stand before you, totally naked you still couldn't see the scars and the wounds. They're emotional.
Everyone who was in Korea in those years has wounds. But no one has exactly the same wounds as I do. No one has the exact same wounds as anybody. You can only imagine what another suffers even if you were there.
No one who was there in that OR when Radar gave that message felt precisely how I did. Not even Trapper felt the exact same hideous pain and unfairness when we heard Henry had died. No one else had the urge to throw up when the woman smothered her baby on that bus. No one else felt the guilt I did when Radar lay there, his chest and shoulder oozing blood. No one else knows what I feel.
These wounds remind me everyday of how cruel, inhumane, unfair, unjust, and evil war is. It makes me feel sick, sad, angry and so helpless knowing there's nothing I could do to stop it. Sometimes it's so bad, it comes in my sleep and I wake up trembling, scared. Other times I just cry and cry. Then the rage hits and I yell and swear and throw things. I can't help how the wounds make me feel, nor can I help how they make me act.
I try to explain to people why I am like I am and why I do what I do, but they don't listen. They assume we're all the same, mentally weary victims of the war. They assume these things because they don't know and they don't understand. Because they weren't there, they weren't in my shoes.
These wounds, these war wounds like you've never seen will run through me forever and there's little you can do to change it. All you can do is accept them, listen to me when I tell you about them, don't jump to conclusions and remember that you can't see them.
I'm back from the Korean 'police-action' and I'm back in Crabapple Cove. I'm back where I was born, and I'm back in the house where I grew up. But I wish that I was back the way I was before I was in Korea.
I have wounds. War wounds. War wounds like you've never seen, like you've never felt, like you've never imagined. They're not from a bullet, or shrapnel oh no, they run deeper than a wound so easily fixed by a doctor. You can't even see them, even if I were to stand before you, totally naked you still couldn't see the scars and the wounds. They're emotional.
Everyone who was in Korea in those years has wounds. But no one has exactly the same wounds as I do. No one has the exact same wounds as anybody. You can only imagine what another suffers even if you were there.
No one who was there in that OR when Radar gave that message felt precisely how I did. Not even Trapper felt the exact same hideous pain and unfairness when we heard Henry had died. No one else had the urge to throw up when the woman smothered her baby on that bus. No one else felt the guilt I did when Radar lay there, his chest and shoulder oozing blood. No one else knows what I feel.
These wounds remind me everyday of how cruel, inhumane, unfair, unjust, and evil war is. It makes me feel sick, sad, angry and so helpless knowing there's nothing I could do to stop it. Sometimes it's so bad, it comes in my sleep and I wake up trembling, scared. Other times I just cry and cry. Then the rage hits and I yell and swear and throw things. I can't help how the wounds make me feel, nor can I help how they make me act.
I try to explain to people why I am like I am and why I do what I do, but they don't listen. They assume we're all the same, mentally weary victims of the war. They assume these things because they don't know and they don't understand. Because they weren't there, they weren't in my shoes.
These wounds, these war wounds like you've never seen will run through me forever and there's little you can do to change it. All you can do is accept them, listen to me when I tell you about them, don't jump to conclusions and remember that you can't see them.