I thought I’d already imagined and seen the worst of any war that could be offered. This isn’t my first war, nor my last. In my heart, I’m ready to accept the death of the ones I love. I see her fighting beside me, I don’t want to worry. Each girl I’ve chosen to love is a unique doubt in my mind, a gamble I yearn to win every night. That their warmth will still be there, and death hasn’t claimed a piece of my heart. All it takes is one moment to shatter that veil, bring you back to the forefront of realizing that at any moment, the ones you kissed and hugged this morning are just gone. That you’ll spend the rest of your life with an emptiness in your heart. And while today my wife came back to me, a lot of people I called friend and who I had just met didn’t. And the fear creeps in. Death feeds well on chaos. But I also have to convince myself that I must fight on, that their deaths meant more than fear. That any of this has to mean more. But I’m terrified of losing the people I love. I just can’t express that fear in a way most people understand. I don’t talk about it all that well. I suck at these kinds of conversations. I instead try to drown it out; that it’s not important, that I’m inconveniencing people by talking about it, or that they don’t want to deal with my fear. Now, I’m just trying to find ways to convince myself that there is an ending where all those beautiful eyes I stare into and those soft hugs I’ve come to adore so much will still be there when this is all over. https://youtu.be/923xVDMm7xA?is=FrYs1TD7-1Hz4I3p