Barren | ✓

k h a k i

when you fight a war, who ends up winning ultimately?

it's a question i often ask myself.

when we are enrolled, there's often young blood coursing through our veins. its warm, its teeming with the spirit of patriotism.

we're ready to serve our country.

patriotism, true patriotism, if often born from an undying love to the land you were bestowed to be born upon.

your loyalty turns into love, which in turn becomes your passion.

it's the one true thing you want to do, even if it's the last thing you do dying.

being wrapped in your flag, the pride of being a martyr. Most families left behind carry the pride on as a legacy inspite of the loss and difficulties thereafter.

people often feel confused about why there's such a feeling towards one's country.

isn't is obvious?

don't we feel that about everything we love?

we're loyal towards it, we love it, we want to protect it at all costs. we won't bear a cross eye falling on it. we prevent even a scratch of harm and if that does befall by some god forbidden reason, all hell breaks loose.

it pretty much fits here too.

you're called upon to train into the army once you're selected. you're trained to become efficient, proficient and a soldier.

you become a fighter for your country.

you're then set on the border to keep guard. not everyone is sent on the frontline. the strongest are kept on the front line, the strategists in their own confines, the backline soldiers for crisis management and the rest are meant to be time savers.

and then one day, war happens.

it all starts with a word, a whisper. the next thing you know, there's a blast in your vicinity. there's panic, there's confusion. there's cries, there's shooting. there's hurried retaliation, there's damage control.

before you know it, the first wave falls back.

there are casualties. the seriousness of the situation is beginning to creep in. there are wild orders being issued from all over the place. the strategists are bombarded with intel from as many intelligence units as possible.

some days, there is no intel.

it's only a blind world with attack imminent every second.

everyone has to stand on the front line in one way or the other.

the first time you see a dead friend, you cant sleep for nights.

the first time you see a dead enemy, you revel in the pleasure of revenge.

the first time you kill a woman and child to save your battalion from suicide bombers, you lose your conscience.

the first time you find yourself shot square, you lose every strand to cope.

by your 300th body, you feel nothing.

by the time thousands are falling, it's an everyday occurence.

by the time you return back home, war is all you can understand.

normal life makes no sense.

love, warmth, comfort, happiness... they mean nothing.

blood, grime, pain, yelling... isn't that normal?

people look at you and expect you to look at them the way you would years back.

it's been an eternity since i've been home.

these people are my family.

but so are the dead. so are the enemies. so are my comrades.

nothing makes sense.

when i see the bodies, there are days where i wonder, wonder whether i really meant to kill them.

weren't they just normal people too, fighting with the same morals and passion?

their passion was just another land that wasn't my own.

did they really deserve to die that way?

the questions are stubbed out as fast as they come, with every shot in the air ringing out thoughts faster than notes being printed.

it's crazy.

but it's the only sane i know.

home doesn't feel good. my head doesn't feel good.

my family begins to fear for me.

i begin to fear for me.

i behave like i am at war at home.

but i am at war with myself.

my conscience is dead.

but so am i.

perhaps war is all i understand. perhaps blood is all i crave. 

but there is no way i can go back, not without bleeding away more of my sanity.

it has to stop. but it won't. 

for my family it has been fourteen years since i was enrolled into the army.

for me?

long enough to return home a broken man with a braveheart suit.

🍸

- a war veteran suffering from the normalcy of an ill-suited world

🍸