We all have our battles that we fight bravely or with fear, screaming or silent.

We all have our battles that we fight bravely or with fear, screaming or silent.

What is the name of the gap you feel somewhere between your ribs and sternum, which increases and decreases with each breath?  What is the name of that sharp vacuum that grows in you with every thought and there is no way to put your hand in and get it out of there?

- Uh, intercostal stab?

 - I don't think so, it radiates all over my body.

It hurts?

- The same pain as on a battlefield, with invalid expectations, with muddy thoughts, with the hope that you will go beyond the whole when the only relief is a well-hidden picture, protected from the bullets of others.  With the same helplessness and the reality of the thought that everyone is busy saving themselves.

 -Whose war is this?

 -It wasn't mine, but it became.  I was dragged into it and I have to fight.  A war of distance, of waiting.  A fight of what it was and it doesn't let me breathe, a battle of what could follow and how the victory would feel, but which is far too far away and I was left alone in the trenches, without even a pat on the shoulder.  Nobody knows what it is, nobody knows how it ends, there are no signs, there are no alleys, there are no paths except those cut by tears on the cheeks.  It's cold and deserted, it's foggy and my clothes are wet at the base of my neck.

 -And what do people say?

People tell me to give up, to go back to myself.  I am seduced by happiness and promises of peace and harmony.

And why don't you do it?

It's a matter of honor.  I can't betray.  And then any promise of peace ended in war.  In one you still have to fight to the end, you can't always desert halfway through.

And what do you say to yourself?  How can you go to war wounded?

I tell myself that I was not given this road to abandon him, I tell myself that the roads back are more dangerous than the ones before.  That, fortunately, there are only two options - win or lose, but even if I lose, there will be people there who have advanced because of me.  And if I win, the wounds will heal with love.  We all have our battles that we fight bravely or with fear, screaming or silent.

 Wars are also needed to return to what is really important, for love and small things to regain their true dimension.  To long only for a kiss and to wake up in the morning next to what you love to become even a blessing.  It is also necessary to be far away, so that you can better appreciate the proximity.  And anyway, it's not like someone promised us a linear and continuous happiness in this life when he gave it to us, it must be acquired and often you feel it only in antithesis to the moments when you didn't have it,  for if it were constant, we would not feel it…

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