It's called survivor's guilt, but we all survived. Why am I guilty? Stupid question, I know the answer. I'm happy. Sage is emotionally handicapped, Ryo lives inside his head, Sai disappeared years ago (he went swimming one day, and didn't come back. Missing, presumed dead. He left behind a pregnant fiancée who refuses my offers of monetary support. I understand the suicide, but did the asshole have to have victims?) And Kento? Better left unmentioned. But me, I'm happy. I was able to answer my calling in life and still make ends meat, I'm not married, but there's a very promising relationship on the horizon with some one who may not be the man of my dreams (straight, and, as I said, emotionally handicapped), but who knows he doesn't need to be. Because I love him.
So why I am I sitting here with a newly purchased .32? It's called survivor's guilt. And I won't actually kill myself. Because Dana loves me, and would count as a victim. Thank god for him, assuming some form of god exists. Otherwise just thank Dana, who is warm, and loving, and doesn't know I have a gun. I think I'll endeavor to keep it that way. I don't think he'd like it much. It would frighten him. He's just a person, he's not made for the extremes that make us tick. I'll probably sell this damn thing, I don't know what I'm doing with it. I always get irrational when this date rolls around. Our "V.T." day, as Sai put it. It was a horrible thing to say, considering that three of us were Japanese nationals, but Sai was never good at thinking before he opened his mouth.
It's funny how we all gravitated towards the U.S. I mean, I was following the job offers, but the others? Well, except for Sai, who did his disappearing act off the coast of Cornwall's Lizard Point. I think we were gravitating towards the youngest group of war veterans we could find. Our own. And what's more, with the new breed of American vets, you always get that cheated, "what the hell was going on out there?" feeling that we understand so well. I think I'm the only one of us who actually remembers his childhood, where he comes from, what he fought for. Another drop on the ocean of my guilt. Maybe Dana will marry me, then I can lean on him whenever I'm low (and vice versa, what kind of an ass do I look like?) and that way I know I'll never pull the trigger.
Pull the trigger? What happened to selling the gun? I think I should vacation in England this year, there's a sea-side memorial that needs me to bring it flowers. God, what sort of flowers are appropriate for that sort of thing?
