Brohymn

Right. His name was actually Sean. He was a decent guy. He had his quirks, but we all do. He bothered people, but it was always very endearing. He annoyed people on purpose, and made them laugh at the same time. Sean was a funny man, but that is not all Sean was.
Sean was a brother, son, uncle and above all else, Sean was a friend. One thing I think all who knew him would agree upon is that Sean always had someone else's happiness in mind. He would have done anything he could for anyone.
What very few people know is that Sean loved. He saw deep meaning and love in most things. Despite this, he still complained a lot. But in his heart, his complaints were out of love. He loved each and every person in his life, and he loved as deeply and as passionately as any being ever has.
It was because of this love that Sean is no longer with us. It wasn't any bombs or bullets or a foreign country. It was love.
You must understand something about him - he never let anyone know of this love. He never told anyone, he never asked for it back and he never let anyone close enough to him for them to even know what was inside of him. Because of this, Sean protected himself from being hurt and was still able to love without fear.
In recent months, Sean let go this fear he has carried and let someone close enough to hurt him. He confided in me that he was confident in this because he had never prayed for anything for himself in his life. When he prayed, it was for other people's needs. He recently prayed for himself for the first time and was positive that whichever deity grants prayers would take note that he actually wanted something for himself and would grant his request. Without fear, condition, hesitation or reservation, Sean opened himself up to allow himself being loved.
This was how Sean died.
The demons exorcised to allow him to be able to accomplish this feat were all creatures of his own invention. To no one's surprise except for his own. The demons were vanquished, and in their place a light filled exposing himself to himself for the first time in his life. This light was then shown to another, and it was appreciated and wanted.
Without warning, the person Sean had shared himself with, left. The light was simply not warm nor bright enough. While this may seem codependent, Sean chose to never allow this to happen again.
Sean turned the light out himself and invented new skeletons in his closet to haunt him. Fearsome ghosts he has an understanding with. They will never allow the light to return and he will succumb to every base desire they wish. He made a conscious decision to never again allow himself to be loved. He can still love in secret, but he will never place another in front of the monsters he exists with.
This is how Sean lives.

A Chronicle Of Early Failures

Right. It is now May. My tenth month. Were this a hockey game, we'd be entering the last period. Were this a hockey game there would be ice and rest and some sort of end state to work toward. But this is not hockey, this is war. More importantly, this is my life. This is a part of my life which will forever be defined by words I did not intend. This is a part of my life which will haunt my memory regardless of how many beers or bullets I put into my brain.
It is a funny thing being here. Hilarious even. See, if you don't laugh at how absurd everything is, then you might start to believe it is reality. And believing this is reality is far worse than any hell I can be placed in. This simply cannot be real. This is just a story, being told by someone as an allegory to some point he has thusly not yet made clear to the audience. Which calls into question the sanity of men and women who volunteer to be bit players in this story.
So maybe I am crazy. Maybe I am fucking insane. Maybe I have always hated myself so much that I joined to die. Maybe I couldn't find any worth in myself and therefore no worth in the rest of the world. Maybe I believed people telling me things I knew to be untrue because I couldn't accept the truth. Maybe I was looking to test the proverbial mettle I had heard about.
Maybe, in some way, each of these is true. It is quite possible. I was told all of these things by a smattering of people a while ago. Maybe they knew what they were talking about all along. Hindsight being 20/20, I wish I had considered these things when I first heard them. Recognizing this fact would mean I am not crazy. Meaning I either never was or have been cured.
If I never was crazy, then where is the problem? If war cured me, then how crazy was I? If this is what it took for me to see clearly, then maybe I was better off living in the fallacy I was living in?
I only say this because it is true. It is too much for too long for me.
I believe I am one of the fairest people alive. I believe I try harder than anyone to be fair when I speak or judge things. I am telling you this as a fact. I wish I could live for a million years bleeding from my eyes and being tortured rather than live out my remaining days knowing I am simply still not good enough for what I want.