The War

I feel like I'm in a war. I feel like every day we head out into the world, and every day, fewer and fewer of us come back alive. Those of us that do come back are wounded and damaged. But again the next day, we get up and go out into the battle. We have no choice. It's a war out there.

Our enemies are disease, both mental and physical, cruelty, abandonment, abuse, ignorance. We continue to face them over and over again, and while we grapple with them, we watch friends and family fall around us, suffering, wounded, anguished.

After enough time in battle, you don't feel it anymore when you lose someone. It's just how it is in a war. You don't form relationships, you don't get too close, because you know it can't last. Your friends today will be buried tomorrow or the next day and that's just the way it is.

My lack of contact becomes my armour, my uniform in this war. It is covered in thorns and in the crevices of my armour, the blood seeps out slowly from wounds already endured. I do not notice it dripping as I walk relentlessly onward through the fight. I know that at any time, it will be my turn, and I am ready.