Jul. 8th, 2010
*over there*
Jul. 8th, 2010 03:31 pmjust found a small piece of paper Ihadback in july 2008, and i can't believe so much has happened since then, for future references Im copying it here, not gonna edit anything, because that was what was in my head at the time, I always said it'll be sad to remember that time.
is not sad, per se, but there's this gritty taste, biter, and cold, is it sadness? is it bile? is it just me facing life?
'no-one will come to say good bye' dressed in brand new fatigues, its itchy, this fabric is raw and resilient, if you want to call it that, it will keep you warm and protect you, but gives no comfort right now, there's none here that I know or I want to sy good bye, second tour, I got in the bus already, clutching my cell, I know its not gonna work there, but I need to... I want to believe that someone will call, that for once I'm not gonna be alone, sitting on a bus minutes away from leaving country and home.
I saw people in moments like this, I've done this the first time around too, ladies dressed as for a party, bright fake smiles, hugs, kisses and hands lingering in loved ones, not knowing if this is going to be the last time, if the next time you see that body will be on a coffin, kids hugs dads and moms, behaving and promising they'll be good, and make them proud, most of them will not, but right now the lie fits the gloom weather.
Brothers asking brothers to take care, sisters crying and smiling with choked sobs, mothers holding in the warm of their bodies what came out of them, hoping, praying, dispair on those faces, this mom is wearing a dress with flowers, and she let his kid go to look at me and smiles, waves her ahnd and make sme cry... where's my mom?
I see this petite blonde woman, hugging this guy, both too serious to be inlove, too regretful to be relatives, then why she came? it wouldn't be rare if it were a one-night stand, it happens, often, more often that you think. she kisses him, closes his shirt and begs him to be careful, enither mention phonecalls or letters, just a brief good bye.
Sitting on a bus watching homes wrecked by someone else's war, for someone's else ego, for someone's else commodities... enough I tell to myself, no politics... sitting on the bus, watching outside, some of this guys are already corpses I know, and I feel old, there are the new ones right after basic training, FCP's, they look like highschool kids on a fieldtrip, and it makes my heart bleed, and here I am, second tour, hoping I get back to start my life, I promise myself next time, I'm not gonna be the one in the bus watching couples saying good byes, and kids promising they'll be good. next time -if there's a next time- I'll be down there, being hugged and hugging someone I love, regreting having to go, not like this, with an empty heart and empty soul that walks in autopilot for honor and duty. next time... If I survive over there.
but I promised he same the firs ttime, and still here I am, alone, things never change.
is not sad, per se, but there's this gritty taste, biter, and cold, is it sadness? is it bile? is it just me facing life?
'no-one will come to say good bye' dressed in brand new fatigues, its itchy, this fabric is raw and resilient, if you want to call it that, it will keep you warm and protect you, but gives no comfort right now, there's none here that I know or I want to sy good bye, second tour, I got in the bus already, clutching my cell, I know its not gonna work there, but I need to... I want to believe that someone will call, that for once I'm not gonna be alone, sitting on a bus minutes away from leaving country and home.
I saw people in moments like this, I've done this the first time around too, ladies dressed as for a party, bright fake smiles, hugs, kisses and hands lingering in loved ones, not knowing if this is going to be the last time, if the next time you see that body will be on a coffin, kids hugs dads and moms, behaving and promising they'll be good, and make them proud, most of them will not, but right now the lie fits the gloom weather.
Brothers asking brothers to take care, sisters crying and smiling with choked sobs, mothers holding in the warm of their bodies what came out of them, hoping, praying, dispair on those faces, this mom is wearing a dress with flowers, and she let his kid go to look at me and smiles, waves her ahnd and make sme cry... where's my mom?
I see this petite blonde woman, hugging this guy, both too serious to be inlove, too regretful to be relatives, then why she came? it wouldn't be rare if it were a one-night stand, it happens, often, more often that you think. she kisses him, closes his shirt and begs him to be careful, enither mention phonecalls or letters, just a brief good bye.
Sitting on a bus watching homes wrecked by someone else's war, for someone's else ego, for someone's else commodities... enough I tell to myself, no politics... sitting on the bus, watching outside, some of this guys are already corpses I know, and I feel old, there are the new ones right after basic training, FCP's, they look like highschool kids on a fieldtrip, and it makes my heart bleed, and here I am, second tour, hoping I get back to start my life, I promise myself next time, I'm not gonna be the one in the bus watching couples saying good byes, and kids promising they'll be good. next time -if there's a next time- I'll be down there, being hugged and hugging someone I love, regreting having to go, not like this, with an empty heart and empty soul that walks in autopilot for honor and duty. next time... If I survive over there.
but I promised he same the firs ttime, and still here I am, alone, things never change.