Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters. If I did I wouldn't be talking to you peons.
To Whom It May Concern:
I can't take this anymore. There's a constant pressure pushing down on me. With the heat it grows unbearable. Men weren't meant to live in tents. Every morning I wake up only to hear tears from my roommate. I wish I could cry like him. If only my tears hadn't already run dry. He's so aware of himself; it must be so easy to be him. Being with Marcoh must be heaven. To not have someone breathing down your neck that you aren't killing enough people. But I digress. I need an out and I think I've found one. It's been said that if you kill your own men they send you to a clinic. I'm not sure if I'll be happy at a clinic, but anything's better than being in this hell they call war. Gran always says I don't kill enough people. This will only add to the blood on my hands. The only question is how will I be able to repent this. I lost all faith in God years ago. I need to cry, I need to let it all out. It seems the only time I get to express the way I feel is when no one's around, which hardly ever happens. Maybe at a clinic it will be better. I'll have a lot more time to myself than I am here. I'll kill some of my fellow officers and they'll ship me off to a clinic where I can clear my thoughts. They'll take me out of this hell and I can be me again. Or at least the closest to me that I can ever be. Men are meant to be at war. I wanted to make the world a better place; I wanted to help people, how childish of me to think that was possible as a State Alchemist. I'm a soldier I'm supposed to kill, but how can I when I actually have to touch them. I can practically feel their souls slipping away from their mortal husks. I get to look straight into their eyes, which practically beg me for mercy. As if I can be merciful. I'm no soldier; I'm a murderer. I should just end it. Just end it right now, but I'm too scared. I need to find something to keep me alive. God, please let someone find this before it's too late. Before I…before I kill anymore. If he can find this, if Mustang can find my letter…well maybe he can save me. Save me from myself. Lord knows I need saving, but maybe…maybe I don't deserve it. I need to let it out; I need someone to notice I'm in pain. If killing my own men is the only way to get attention then so be it. They deserve it for not noticing in the first place. Please God, let him find this before it's too late. Before these murderous thoughts get the better of me and it's too late for me to get the help I need. Please God, listen to me this once.
Zolf J. Kimblee
This is my first fanfiction so be kind.