I was reading a book once, and one character said 'no, it costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are'
That quote has never been deemed more appropriate, than right now.
Because it does cost not only your life, but your identity.
Well it should, theoretically.
But the harsh truth?
It doesn't cost your life.
It doesn't cost who you are.
Because they get away, they always do, they always will.
Every time.
It still play in my mind, everyday.
Over.
And over.
And over.
The guns, trigger ready to be effortlessly pulled.
The piercing screams, the pain worse hearing the familiar voices.
The blood, dried, matting the floor, their hair, their limp bodies.
The graves, buried 10 feet under never to be seen again.
The thought of them never returning.
Ever.
Some advice.
Never wait until it's too late, to tell them how much you love them.
To show how much you care.
Because when they're gone, they're gone.
It won't matter how much you shout.
How much you cry.
They won't hear you.
They never will.
Why?
They aren't there anymore.
You lost them.
They lost you.
That is, sadly, the truth.
