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Edited on Mon Sep-11-06 10:24 PM by MiniMandaRuth
That came from my best guy friend, the one that I quote in my sig line.
This afternoon during lunch he seemed very disturbed. I asked him what was the matter and we went out behind the main building to sit on the warm grass, soft beneath us. I looked at him, and I realized that his eyes were scared. The same brown eyes that I had sought comfort from were scared and watery, like I had never seen before.
So, I asked him what was bothering him and he just collapsed.
Turns out his parents were quietly discussing in bed last night the war. With all this fear floating about in the world, they feared. They feared that what happened before would happen again. They feared that a draft would come, and through his mothers soft, racking sobs, she feared that her two boys would be taken from her forever.
He is a true teenage boy. He likes football, he's good at math, he has really great friends. He's strong. He's kind. He protects me and stands up for me like a true friend. He adores art and music, and is a pacifist at heart. But today, there was no strength in his voice. Only fear. Pure unadulterated fear.
He told me, his voice weak as he hung his head in both shame and fright, that he had a nightmare that he was in a war. Drafted. Taken from his family and his friends, from everything he loved. He was forced into a bloody war filled with death and fire. I listened in horror as he explained in depth what he had seen.
I will not write it here, but it was horrific what he said. People with their heads blown off. But one scene struck me hard.
"I stumbled over to a doorway... I'm not sure how. I looked over when I heard a noise, and I prepared to fire. There stood me. Bruised and bloody. And I shot me. I killed me."
He has an identical twin brother, and that's what I think he meant.
I reached over to comfort him as he sat there, babbling to himself like a madman. I hugged him around the shoulders and he hugged me back. I could feel his tear-streaked face on my neck and his body heave with cries. I soothed him, telling him that it would all be alright. That I would never let anyone take him from me.
And then, he looked at me. His eyes were not scared or frightened or unsure, but proud for the first time all day.
"I don't want to go to war... but I will to protect you. They'll have to drag me out of your arms."
And then I knew.
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