Wow

Yet again, I made a promise I didn't keep. Why? Because I didn't want to. I know this sounds extremely childish, but after telling an 'old' college friend that I'd visit him, I decided against it so that I could have more time with my best friend of about nine years. After a long night talking about boy troubles, my parents picked me up for church on Sunday to see old friends; after the service, one image in particular caused utter speechlessness. As I gawked at a young man that I hadn't seen in four long years, I couldn't help but recount all that had occurred in those years that passed between us without any communication. We were equally stunned to see one another, particularly because he'd thought I was still living in Virginia and because I never expected to see him ever again. Once the object of my affection (though we were never much more than friends), the young man in front of me was now describing his encounters as he earned his status as a fireman. He was always one to describe things in great detail, which stunned me because I never had enough passion to speak so much on just one subject. Training and five fires later, here stands my old friend talking as he had years ago.
There have been many other adventures since I left Texas, but those will be left for later.

Why Does It Hurt?

I spent so many hours trying to make it work, I agonized both day and night, I wrote as passionately as I could in attempt to make it work. Last night I could barely sleep; when I did, my dreams reminded me of the agony I would continue to face in the morning. Today I thought, "Will I make it through this day, will I survive? It's just too much to bear." No, I refused to allow myself to express this utter need of support. I nearly shed a tear when I was hiding under my covers, trying to make the pain of it all dissappear, if only for a few minutes. For the first time in a very long time, I felt myself nearly breaking down. Hours at the computer, attempting to solve these problems seem wasted, my written word completely meaningless. All this for what? A boy? If that were true, I would never admit it; and it's doubtful that it would ever be the case. No, it was my annual financial report for accounting. And it's finally over; freedom on the Fourth of July, who would've guessed?
Today we celebrate freedom, liberty, and all that is patriotic. For the past few days I've been grappling with my feelings on these subjects. I've never considered myself patriotic; quite the opposite, for no particular reason. Nevertheless, I do support the troops, for whatever that's worth. At the same time, I don't see the need for war, which just complicates the whole situation. I hate war, I hate people dying (no matter what cause it may be for), and I hate that people I know are willing to put themselves in the line of fire. I can think of at least one friend or family member for each military branch who is or has served. Army, Navy, Coast Guard, Air Force, and Marines. It's painful for me to see each uniform and to hear each salute song, it just makes me sick to my stomach every time because I have a face to represent each. Maybe it's just me, maybe I have digestive problems or maybe it's early menopause that raises my temperature about ten degrees every time, but these things make me visibly uncomfortable. Sometimes I wish my friends weren't so brave.
To those of you who are soldiers: thank you.
With gratitude,
Anna