It’s like I’m dragging half of me behind me. I’m bleeding…I’m bruised and banged up…my mind is flatlined and filled with static. And what’s worse, my woodland squad of the northern armies has been cutoff, starved out, and pinned down for months now. We have been shot out, running out of rations, and now we have started turning on one another at the lowest ebb of morale.
The attacks have come without; the attacks have come within. Some of the enemy have blatantly charged us full-on, unloading all they have on us. Their blood is all around…and so is ours. Then comes the trouble sleeping, the internal squabbles man-to-man, and then the mind games. Exhaustion. Deprivation. Mentally melting with huge gaps in memory and cognizance.
I…can…sometimes…I feel like…something’s got…got to give. And I think it’s me. That’s what you have said. I either give or I cease to live. You say this struggle, this strain is good. The frontlines, the lonely frontlines…you say it is good to be knee deep in overwhelming odds. Ludicrous are these days. Only You can prevail when things are this bad.
Long blinks. Can’t think. Hold your weapon up boy…and fire! I don’t know if I still got it in me to fight. I just don’t know anymore—so tired. And it’s bone tiredness, cutting down and cutting deep. This is the expiration of flesh that is rootly inadequate. I can barely remain straight in this strain of thought to document….
Pass out. Full collapse. Or at least what feels like it.
Open my eyes. I see you in flashes and darted dashes of light. Visions and snapshots of a future world, nigh cinematic in view. And oh the awards this movie would get, if ever it were to be made. As I watch this, after all the attacks, all the fallen comrades, all the mental disintegration…in these glimpses I will still hope. Yes, in your future world I will still hope.