Bardzo mi przykro*

by: Niebezpiczny Ksiezyc

 

“War and destruction warp the mind of anyone who dare participate or stand in its maelstrom of instability. The old myth that a perfect soldier exists is false, just like many other old wives tales that mothers tell their children. No one can stand the death, the loss or even the gain of power in the end by the victor. But what of the loser? Perhaps in reality there is not a single loser for all involved seem to lose something or someone in the process. Life cannot be taken without repercussions from the soul and mind. The very thought of extinguishing life follows a person throughout the rest of theirs. They live life as a hollow shell, a cold hearted person, who cannot feel.

 

But what does a person do when they start to feel? They start to relive those moments that they tried so hard to tuck away in the back of their minds. Buildings crumbled and dust covering the once fertile and vibrant earth. The echoes of the laughter of innocent children that had once joyfully played on that very street, reverberate throughout the soul. They remember the way the bright sun became dim as if it was ashamed to bear witness to the atrocities committed below. There is no more laughter, there is no more sunshine. There is no more innocence.

 

A man can only stand so much pressure before cracking under the very thing that kept him going during those years of battle. When you fall asleep at night, do you dream of death and see the faces of those you killed? A solider can only be perfect in the heat of battle. But what do you do with a perfect soldier, when the battle dwindles, and the flame of unrest flickers and slowly burns out? Do they themselves slowly flicker between the two worlds? Or do they stay amongst a state of anguish and hell for eternity?

 

Perhaps the perfect soldier can only stand so much of this torture. Isn’t it ironic that the perfect soldier is designed to withstand any situation, but not any situations created by their minds? There is no perfect soldier, no automaton that performs horrible acts and does not live to regret them later. They fight their physical enemies bravely, but they always lose to the demons within.”

 

A small tear drops to the wrinkle paper, grasped tightly in the hand of a young boy. Another boy walks by, and places a hand on his shoulder and pauses to speak. “Heero would have proud of that eulogy.”

 

 

 

* Note from Hawk: according to Niebezpiczny Ksiezyc, “Bardzo Mi Przyko” is Polish for “I am Sorry.”