So I spend my first night without my dog tag in years the other night. I laid in bed for hours, just thinking, remembering. Wishing.
Part of me wants back, part of me doesn't think of the pain and the fear. Part of me only remembers the morning running, the cadence calling. The laughs and hugs. Dropping Kleve for some push ups just for fun, laughing as he did them.
Part of me wants back in the fight though. Return to my life of honor, of selflessness.
They said this would happen. That for some of us that life would seem like the only life worth living. For some of us, the fights, the fires, the guns, the uniform... the only things that make sense.
One day, maybe, if I get called back...
A hero of war, is that what they see, just medals and scars, so damn proud of me?
eurynome:
HUGS!!!