Comfort of time.

Few things give us pride in our lives. Things that make us feel as if we really have meaning in this world that really may not make sense at times. When times are good, if you get the luxury of time an overthinker may reach a point of confusion. Yet when times are bad that same person may think of some way to give the negativity a reason and root. What we cant find a lot of the time is a “why”. This worries me since without one, we are essentially just surviving and if that becomes too easy, we won't want to do it anymore.

James was not the most positive thinking person and would often be unable to find a “why” for himself. He didn’t need one. He had a stable job; a nice house and his family was well off. If he wanted he could take a 10-week vacation and recover with no worries. This careless life made him greatly happy, but also greatly empty. He never felt the need to go to work. he never felt the need to do good for people. Slowly, he began losing his way. He was not putting effort into anything.

Food? I'll just order it. Money? Just use the credit card, how low can my credit score go? Work? I am calling in sick. Then boom. A halt to his disgusting lifestyle. The country broke into war. We all saw it coming. Didn’t we? There were problems everywhere we went. Everyone wanted to move out of the country. Yet no one would ever say that they did not belong to the country. It gave them some sort of an edge being from here. Yet they never want to save what gave it to them. The government had no choice but to begin recruiting civilians into the army. James was recruited, not really by choice. By compulsion.

James was angry that he was put into this situation and had to get his hands dirty. Something he never did previously. There was always someone else who could do it and some way he could take the easy way out but this time he couldn’t. This time he was locked into a situation. No exit. The next thing he knew he was on a truck being driven to the front lines. Right, where the fight was. He was handed a gun and given the order to shoot anyone that he observed was not a part of the right side, along with continuing to move forward. Yet the question came up. Who was right? What if the government was not, would he shoot them? Maybe that’s what those we shoot at think, that they are right, and we are not.

The confusion returned yet unfortunately this time he did not have the comfort of time. He was in the battleground and the bullets were in his way. The shoots did not stop anywhere except on the chests of those around him. He ducked as instinct, but he couldn’t stay as all around him were just dead bodies, ammunition, and smoke. All brushing against his face, the way his bed did. Then a bullet landed right in front of his eyes. He slowly realised the very place he used to call home and spend his life peacefully in, had become an open graveyard. The pride in his life was challenged and that was what made him get off the floor and begin firing.

For the first time in his life, he had a “why” he began shooting endlessly. Until a shoot hit his right leg. He went down to the ground, back with the comfort of time, to think. Yet at this time he realised he still did not know what he was fighting for. The pride he was fighting for, did not remain. He had gone soft, not realis

ing that it was never his pride to begin with.