Fighting a War-- - Writers Forum

faeriedanzer19 · 07-03-2006, 12:49 AM

Disclaimer:

Some Adult Content

“I fought in a war and I left my friends behind me
To go looking for the enemy, and it wasn’t very far…”

What War Are You Fighting? Falling In Love. Getting Clean. Using.

“A relationship is a fight. Love is a fight. Everything is a fight. Anything worth having is going to be a war in some degree. Ah tension. Ah. Exhaustion. Do I have what it takes?”

Tuesday- March 21st, 2006.
(2 Months Since My First Date with Alex)

Day 51. One thousand and twenty-four hours. Seventy-three thousand, four hundred and forty minutes. Four million, four hundred and six thousand and four hundred seconds. Feeling every moment of it. A pain that lives inside every shallow breath. War on two fronts (Within and without). Everyone knows how two front wars end. I’m split emotionally, physically and mentally. Haven’t slept through the night in God knows how long. The terrifying realization that I’ve entrenched myself in a battle with no end. Quicksand. There’s no exact victory or enemy to defeat. No final battle to wage. No return home to parades and confetti and a lover with open arms. A sense of hopelessness settles in next to pain. Exhaustion so deep that it hurts. Everything is bearable for a certain period of time. But this is too much. I’m far too weak for this. Morale is low. If it’s not one thing, then it’s another. War all of the time. I don’t even know how all of this began. Squint my eyes as I try to focus on what got me here. (No Pearl Harbor but a pretty nasty overdose and an ultimatum or two from his lips.) Remember the other war I was fighting. Every waking moment. Killing myself one day at a time, walking around land mines-barefoot and blind, stomach in knots. Half-dead and not feeling a moment of it. Then love. Fighting against that, shying away from that. Nothing’s ever easy. Must everything be won through blood and tears? Head in hands.

Monday-January 30th, 2006.
(Skipping School Because No One Told Me It’d Feel Like This)

Day 1. Nothing but hope. Unfamiliar terrain. A hand extended to show me the way. “There’s another way.” He swears up and down and I want to believe him so badly that I do. I have no idea what I’m getting into at this point. Body shaking. Sick and weak. Temples throbbing. Wanting to peel back layers of skin and claw out what is ever killing me, bleed it out. Wanting to surrender already. Just get me a bag. Someone just give me a god damn line. And the arms of someone you push away from (enemy or ally?) Arms that wrap you up and swear to stay with you. That it gets better. Who holds your shaking hands and understands the pull. So you curl up in bed and cover your eyes. Tears slip through fingers. One day at a time and you don’t even know why you joined this war.. Where the hell is the white flag? Now isn’t that appropriate…

Friday- February 12th, 2006.
(One Of Those Nights You Couldn’t Forget If You Tried To--And You Have)

Day 12. The war seems bearable. Everything seems bearable. Every day and every night spent with him. And it’s a different kind of battle. A war to be better and improve and live with some sense of sanity. To love despite fear. A fight for trust and acceptance. Looking into painfully blue eyes. For a breath, a second--the war is won.

Monday-Tuesay- February 15th -21st, 2006/
(A Week of Complete Bliss)

Day 15-21. All is well. The weather is pleasant. A cease fire has been called. We all just want to live in peace. War. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Sometimes when the air is still and the gunfire is silent, I forget that I’m even supposed to be fighting at all. Days float by I peace.

Monday- February 20th, 2006.
(I Have Never Felt Like This)

Day 22. This is the most amazing day of the war, of my entire pointless life. He tells me that he loves me. For hours I’m free from that constant craving. This high far exceeds anything I’ve ever found in a bag. My temperature rises and a smile won’t leave my face. The cease fire holds. Could peace be on the horizon?

Wednesday-February 22nd, 2006.
(Who Are You Kidding)

Day 24. Of course not. First NA meeting. Back to fighting. Back to shaking. Nails digging into palm. I can’t do this. Ducking as bullets fly past. My that was a close one. Fiending. The first step is admitting that you are powerless over your addiction, that your life has become unmanageable. I can’t do this. After the silence, every shot makes my heart skip a beat. When I get scared I run back to the familiar. My name is Janelle and I’m an addict? “You met me at a very strange time in my life.” Crying against his chest. And someone whispers that all of this is possible- “if you bring forth what is in you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is in you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” Obviously they have no concept of the fact they are mumbling nonsense in the middle of a firefight. I barely blink as I watch them disappear in another explosion. This is love and war and sobriety. All’s fair. Sometimes I feel nothing and sometimes I feel absolutely everything. There’s no end in sight. This thought drains the life from me.

Tuesday- February 28th, 2006.
(Yeah, It’s A Terrifyingly Big Number For Me. Please Don’t Mention It.)

Day 30. People clap you on your back. Go on and pick up a key tag. Great job. You’ve made it for thirty days alive. You find the thought amusing. No one gets out of war whole. The lucky ones end up in body bags.

Thursday- March 2nd, 2006.
(Self-Destruction. Hey! That’s My Specialty!)

Day 32. So you decide to give up. Please and thank you, I’ve had quite enough of this pointless war. It’s far too difficult. He won’t allow it. “What are you going back to?” He screams-- “Love Me!” Hand cupped to ear. Pretend you can’t hear him over the mortar. Keep walking. And he won’t stop following you. This isn’t something we’ll be able to do.

Friday-March 3rd, 2006.
(The Lighting Rod That Couldn’t Pull the Storm From Me)

Day 33. Everyone is exhausted. Failure is not an option. If you pull out now, everything will be destroyed. Then what the hell do you do? He stands outside your window and you can see his eyes even from so far away. For the moment you’re too weak too fight, so he covers you. Carries you while trying to stay alive himself. The war is taking a dire toll on you both.

Saturday-March 4th, 2006.
(Today’s the Day When Dreaming Ends)

Day 34. He gives up. Tells you that it’s too much. Go to a meeting alone, candlelit. Shake and sob and come close to forfeiting. Where is the white flag? Fingertips to temples. Who are you kidding? When will this be over? Still no end in sight.
Day Unknown. You’re fighting this battle alone. Part of you is just waiting to be defeated or die. How do you know when a war ends? How many casualties equal a victory? Clean and serene for X numbers of days. You laugh at the serene part and clean is up for debate as well. Your thoughts are absolutely filthy. So dark, you can feel it on your skin. You want to get high so badly that you can already feel the rush. On the bright side, you’re not the first person to fight in a war you neither agree with or understand. Keep firing on automatic. Basic thought. “Functioning on an animal level.” Take it one second at a time. One millisecond at a time. I will stay clean for the next five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. Every line is blurred. And yet you can see so clearly.

Monday-April 3rd, 2006.
(Don’t Think Ahead…Take It One Day At a Time)

Day 64. You shouldn’t keep count- it does no one any good. You’ll collapse. Slip back into another war completely. At least it one you can understand. At least its one that you know the rules to. It’s one with a definite end. (See page 56- Jails, institutions and my personal favorite--death.) Shouldn’t keep count. Every ally becomes an enemy. The love of your life keeps your death tucked in her pocket and whispers that its not so bad to give in. Looking ahead.

Monday- April 3rd, 2006.
(Why Won’t You Ever Do As Your Told?)

Day 64. Will you take the blue pill or the red? Continue fighting a war for the rest of your life? (No thanks, kid.) Every day. Every second. Fighting blind and deaf, wounded and weak. Having no idea of what this f*cking war’s about. Or will you give up? Wave a white flag. Lean over a mirror. Inhale. Sit back. Eyes slide closed. It feels so good to give in. Welcome back. You don’t have to fight any more. Is the war over yet? Still no end in sight.

Thursday- December 16th, 2005.
(Another War Entirely)

Day God Only Knows. What a night. My head hurts, until I get more. Numb. Numb. Numb. A hand to my face, fingers covered in blood. Nosebleeds twice a day now. My whole face feels like spun sugar, blow too hard and I’ll collapse. So tired. On edge. Snap and sniff another line. Either angry or numb. No in between. Miserable or nothing. Shell shocked. Another kind of war altogether. Fighting a substance. Fighting a secret. Fighting myself. Eyes glassy. Every doubt disappears. What are you doing?

Flexbile Garphite · 07-04-2006, 02:57 PM

Aauufhhhgggaaa!!!!!!

Chris Miller · 07-04-2006, 04:01 PM

Very well written with few edits. Nice rhythm. The prose tended to be kind of homogenous and circular, like one long scream. But then, those of us who’ve ever kicked anything (substance or person), know how that feels. It’s just that, I’m not sure I want to go through the experience, even vicariously, again. And you have to do more than tell me that it sucks and that it’s hard, however fluently you do this. Still, nice work, nice writing, has potential beyond journal entries if you add some description and narrative outside of her head.

Days float by I peace.
in

...you neither agree with or understand.
nor

faeriedanzer19 · 07-05-2006, 11:04 PM

thanks so much for the critiques. this piece was a thrown together, emotional mess i did for a school assignment. as i read it i feel worse and worse about it, but at the time it was what i needed and no one would give me--an outlet to complain, and sulk, and be tragic. i've got it out of my system-thank god. and i'd edit it--turn it into something. but right now i cant because it upsets me for some reason... thanks again! i really appreciate any advice to help me grow as a writer. and as far as technical things--i need all the help i can get. grammar is far from my strong suit.