At War With Myself.

"Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder, whether it's all meant to be. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only human on earth, the rest are just programmed by someone up there. Or like I will live every life there is to live in this universe. Or maybe it's just all play and games. Maybe this is like a doll house to someone, and I'm the only real thing here. Maybe there are lots of little dollhouses, that, to us, are humongous, and we are just little puppets. Maybe I'm a puppet too…

I do things I don't mean to, I don't want to. In my mind, I've never killed a soul, but I know I have. I know that gun sitting there is supposed to be my protection. It is supposed to keep me from dying. And why I fear it…. To die, is the unknown. Nobody knows what is out there, what happens to me when I die. So that’s why I keep it. I don't want to be here. I don't want to have to fight, I don't want to have to kill, but I have 8 more months here.

They might call me gay, the other soldiers, if they find out I started a diary. It's normally something little kids do. But I have no one. Not here, nor back home. My parents were killed when I was 6. They were both drug dealers, and had to pay someone off, while they couldn't. After I finished school I decided to join the military. It wouldn't hurt, I didn't have any collage money, so that felt like the only option to me.

But what would it matter, if I'd die? Nobody would care. Nobody knows me here, in fact nobody knows me in this world. So if I'd die in this war, nobody would notice, nobody would give a shit about me. So tomorrow, when I'm in the battle field again, should I fight back? Or will I stand up and let the bullets fly around until they hit me enough to kill me.

Goodnight."

I held the book in my hand, wondering who this was. I sat down on the rough ground against a big stone. I had the shadow of the big tree, standing next to the ruined house. My pants matched the color of the ground. There was a big blood stain a little further away, which I turned away from. No need to read and see something horrible at the same time. I needed to focus, this person, whoever he was, wanted help.