life is war, and when you're born you join the army of humanity. of exisiting.
and most of my comrades i grew up with and trained together didn't die by bullets from machine guns, bombs, dropped by planes, or artillery shells.
no.
most of my comrades died because they became focused on the busy tedium of existing and focusing on their lives, and in the process forgot about me, and i them.
we are no longer comrades, but strangers who stopped caring for each other, and couldn't even recognize one another if we happened to pass by each other randomly on the street.
but at certain moments, i remember them. i remember the times we shared, and memories we created that had an impression on me like two hands squeezing a lump of clay. i remember the foxholes we shared together in meaningless battles against rival factions, and authoritarian dictators who had us under their control. i remember, and in these moments i mourn. but there are no graves or memorials to lay flowers, or a trinket that held a special meaning between us on the concrete or marble facade. to shed a tear and reminisce getting lost in our shared nostalgia.
no. there are no physical reminders of the times we shared except for maybe a photograph or home movie of us together that maybe one of our parents saved.
no there is nothing for me but these moments, and they will come back spontaneously into my life at certain times, in certain places, in certain thoughts, but for now this moment will soon come to an end, and i'll move on.
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