I went to a battlefield today.
Because I've previously been hurt in this war, I chose to not involve myself in today's battle. I didn't even stand on the sideline. I sit quietly at the nearby meadow minding my own business.
But, duty calls.
I was the commander of a platoon who got injured while fighting a double-crosser in our troop. At that time, it was as though I was fighting a losing battle, with no one by my side. Although later it turns out that my men was behind me all the way, it was too late as I lost the fight and injured myself badly. The injury was bad enough that I, myself requested for my own withdrawal.
At that moment, they didn't seem like they need me at all. They didn't even objected my proposal. The double-crosser won and stayed as I discreetly withdrew myself from the troop.
Today they called me back into this war. Saying that they need my help. I went and listen.
But secretly, I pledged to myself that I will never help them. Even in helping them it'll benefit me. I won't.
Because in the end, it won't even matter to them. I won't matter to them.
Because, they don't matter to me. Not anymore.
I don't hate them.
I just don't love them anymore.
Whoever said family isn't a battlefield…
…is damn wrong.
1 day ago