Times like this, I hate the most.
Not the times when I feel the need to see my own blood drip from my veins.
Not the times when I feel so empty I end up having gaps in my memory when I look back.
Not the times when I hear them screaming in my head and no matter what I do they don’t shut up.
Not any of those times.
But moments like this, days like this, weeks like this even; I hate the most.
Because these are the minutes, the hours, the days when I can’t do anything but be some sort of stand by.
Some sort of person who loves (in any sort of way) a soldier and is just waiting on the sidelines for them to come back from the battlefield.
Not knowing if they will come back breathing or…
I hate moments like this.
Where all I can do is breathe, sit and wait.
And hope. But what use is hope in a war?
All I feel in the hours of these moments is helplessness.
But I want to help. I want to do something.
I want to run to you in the middle of all the flying bullets and just help.
Is that so much to ask?
But the reality is…I can’t.
I can’t help.
All I can do is wait. And wait.
All I can do is wait for my soldier to come back home.