Started by Hannah Davis18 · · 👁 5 views · 185 replies
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amberviper39 said:She won't say it, because if she actually felt that way, even my daughter wouldn't be with him.😬 I mean, I trust her judgment—or rather, I'm teaching her how to actually use it. Facts are facts.
frozentinker432 said:does your daughter ever ask you why so many veterans take their own lives every single day? what do you even tell her then? just let it go because they're just people who can't forget?
nimblewalker58 said:
I wasn't quite that young when it all started, though I was certainly naive.QUOTE]
I was definitely naive—naive enough to believe those grenades landing all around me couldn't touch me. Dammit, it felt like some kind of game, much like what the guys from the 1st Marine Division used to tell me... once you finally realize what this actually is, you just snap. There’s no saving you.
God, everything changed that one night. People still remember when the ExxonMobil refinery went up in flames.
We were pulling machinery out of the plant while things were absolutely heating up. It was hell. I was working alongside their technician, Pero Mačinković. I won't forget that man as long as I live.
We were standing by the entrance of the building facing the main road toward Tenya, acting like we were just ducking out of the rain rather than dodging artillery.
Anyway, there was this man running down the street, screaming and sobbing... it sounded strange, not even human. He was carrying a little girl, wounded and covered in blood... damn them all to hell.
Olivia Nguyen4 said:I wasn't exactly that young when things kicked off, but I was definitely naive.QUOTE]
I was beyond naive. Like, stupidly naive. I honestly thought those grenades dropping all around me couldn't touch me.
amberviper39 said:I don't hide it from her, because she’s old enough to grasp how heavy and serious their history really is—the trauma they're still carrying, the hurdles they face. I'm not keeping all that locked away in a closet. She had the chance to see her own father waking up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares, dreaming about a friend who died right in front of him, and so on... I won't drag this out. Like I said, my child isn't living under a glass dome.
Jose Chase2 said:yeah, we've got those Brešanov witnesses🤮
frozentinker432 said:Their history belongs to all of America—to our parents, our kids, and their grandkids too. I haven't sat by my best friend's side while they passed away, but just knowing that your husband and so many others were involved... it hurts. It’s what triggered that reaction a few pages back. I don't know—it's my people, it's in my blood, and their suffering feels like mine. Why is that so hard for some to wrap their heads around? Does it really matter if I'm seventeen? I'm not seventeen; I feel like I'm a thousand years old. This history was etched into me from day one, and I can't—and won't—just let it go. I won't.
Sorry if this came off a little heavy-handed.
nimblewalker58 said:I was thinking about maybe using some harisonov flowers or telling tilla "how the war started on my island," but I'm worried she might end up hating pasta shells after that. 😁
Hannah Davis18 said:their suffering isn't your burden to carry—it doesn't have to be.
maybe we can spend a little more time acting like a group on some epic pilgrimage through the South; though most of us don't even bother remembering.
you’ve got your own life to live; pay your taxes, enjoy yourself, and stop nagging the kids while they're watching the game.
history isn't something you're born with—but hey, I guess that sounds deep.
nimblewalker58 said:@Olivia Nguyen4
That is precisely the point I am trying to make. In the morning, you have the sunshine, a barbecue in the background, the sound of grenades exploding, and news footage playing on the TV—it creates this sensation that it’s all happening somewhere else entirely; I can still vividly recall watching the coverage of the Gulf War.
By 3 PM, there is strafing from aircraft, and by 4 PM, columns of people from a small town in the Midwest are walking along with their livestock and bags. That very same evening, I found myself in a barn with four head of cattle and twenty people crowded in the shelter. 😢
One is forced out of their idealized existence quite abruptly.
However, if one begins recounting these things to children, they will suffer from nightmares; they will be afraid. I am certainly no expert on how to handle such matters. I had hoped the school system would manage part of the burden, but they, too, tend to shirk their responsibilities. Perhaps through a few films, some television programs, or even casual conversations regarding current events or cinema, certain facts will gradually take root. It does not actually have as much to do with Mexicans as it does with the potential circumstances life may throw at them. Ultimately, who knows where a child might end up, and if they should find themselves caught in a conflict, I doubt they would be any different emotionally than those of us who lived through it.
frozentinker432 said:Their history belongs to all of us in this country—to our ancestors, our children, and their children after them. I haven't had the experience of watching a best friend pass away by my side, but simply knowing that your husband and so many others are gone... it hurts. It’s what triggered that reaction just a few pages back. I don't know; it's my people, it's in my blood, and their suffering is my own. Why is that so difficult for some to grasp? Does it matter if I am seventeen? I am not seventeen; I am a thousand years old. My people's history was etched into my soul from the moment I was born, and I cannot—I will not—let go of it. I refuse to.
My apologies if this came across as overly sentimental this time.
frozentinker432 said:I don't know, my people are me, it's my blood, their suffering is my own... why is that so hard to get? Like, does it matter if I'm seventeen? I'm not seventeen, I'm a thousand and seventeen years old. My people's history has been etched into me since birth, and I can't—and won't—get rid of it. I just won't.
Hannah Davis18 said:their suffering isn't yours, and there's absolutely no reason for it to be.
Perhaps we can spend a little less time wallowing in misery like a group of travelers on a pilgrimage through the North America; at least most of us don't hold onto those memories forever.
You have your own life to lead; pay your taxes, enjoy yourself, and stop nagging the kids while they're watching football.
History isn't something etched into your soul from birth, though I suppose saying it that way sounds profound enough.
Hannah Davis18 said:their suffering isn't your burden to carry—it doesn't have to be.
we can play the martyr role like some group on a trek through the North America if we want; but most of us don't actually dwell on it.
you have your own life; pay your taxes, enjoy yourself, and stop nagging the kids while they're watching the game.
history isn't something etched into you from birth—but hey, I guess that sounds good, right?
nimblewalker58 said:History matters—it’s what gives you a sense of belonging to a people, a nation.
The ones who don't care about that? They're just globalists and lost souls drifting through this consumerist, capitalist void.
I wish we could go back to quoting those letters where people talk about how they're forgetting who they actually are...