A Broken Mind

           It’s so beautiful on this rooftop at night. So far away from crowded streets and the chaotic noise of the city.  My wife is doing the laundry and my children are asleep so it’s just me up here. Alone, on my lounge chair. I can see everything, though all I really care for is the stars. My building, you see, is much taller than those surrounding it, so when you look straight up all you see is the illuminated night sky. It feels like you become part of it because you’re so close. But even with the comfort of the floating light, my mind is still uneasy.

            I should have never gone to war. Why did I go again? Something about war must have been intriguing at the time, but I can’t remember for the life of me what it was. The memories torture me day and night. It’s so unbearable. I try to shut them up, but they keep coming back, breaking down the walls I’ve build to conceal them. It seems worse when I’m alone because there’s nothing to distract me. No busy work to keep my mind occupied. If I try to stay still and relax for even a minute, there is nothing that can stop every gruesome detail from flooding my thoughts.  

            I got up and took a step forward. Suddenly, I was back under a bush waiting for the enemy to attack. When they did, bombs went off all around us. We weren’t expecting an aerial attack. My radio was screaming with the sound of my sergeant’s voice. He was saying,” Get out of there! Get out NOW!” I ran in the opposite direction of the bombs. People fell around me like rag dolls, gasping for air. We were being gassed.

            I was back on the rooftop looking at the city. I shook my head in attempts to clear my mind and took a deep breath in. I took another step forwards and then I was running through the trees and avoiding the bushes. The white, odorous fog was thick and getting thicker. The only way I could keep the gas from knocking me out was to cover my nose and mouth. My unprotected eyes burned. Even with my arm to my face, the gas filled up my lungs and I started to cough. I couldn’t stop. With each cough I took in more gas. It enveloped my whole being and I started to feel light-headed. My nostrils and my throat were burning and dry. Suddenly, I heard machine guns going off behind me. Men with masks were gaining on the few people who were still conscious, including me.

            CLANK. What was that? Oh, just my empty coke can falling over from the wind. I must have walked more than I thought because I was farther away from my chair than two steps. I turned back around to face to city. Next step. I was frantically climbing up a tree. With every bit of strength I had left I forced myself to climb all the way to the top. The gas had affected my vision and my muscles weren’t working quite right. I found it difficult to just hold on to the tree. I took a deep breath in and the air was relatively fresh. Even though I was above the reach of the gas, the minute I looked down, I wished I’d never climbed up. I could see the whole scene of flat out murder unfold before my very eyes. All of our troops were lying on the ground either choking to death or with bullet holes already through them. I scanned the ground further and… NO! My friend! My only true friend I ever made in this place was leaning against a tree with a bloody, open hole in his chest. He was still conscious and his eyes were moving back and forth frantically as if looking for something, anything to hold on to. They finally came to rest on me. Through my tears, I could see his face relax. He had found his anchor. He gave me a little smile and a thumbs up. It was something we would do after each training session had ended and we were too out of breathe to speak. I lifted my hand and gave him a thumbs up in return. Then, without losing eye contact, his hand dropped, the smile left his face, and he slid down the tree stump onto the ground.

            It was very windy all of a sudden. I looked down to see the vertical drop to the sidewalk. I survived physically that day in the war, but mentally I was destroyed. I sometimes wish I hadn’t survived. My wife and the kids are great, but I say with regret that it isn’t enough to replace the images that have been seared into my brain. I had no idea what I was getting into would stay with me. My mind is crippled beyond repair. Therapists and psychiatrists I’d seen didn’t help in the slightest and I know none will ever be able to help in the future. I’m too far gone. I am going to stay like this, in this non-progressive state for the rest of my life, unless. . .

            I put my foot out, said my silent goodbyes, and let myself go limp. I was flying. I was soaring through the cool evening air. I turned so that my back faced the ground and my eyes faced the stars. I saw them twinkling and finally felt peaceful. With the sidewalk I was freed, with the stars I flew, and with my friend I will soon be.