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I have explained my situation to those of higher authority. But they seemed very eager to keep me, for I obviously had military training, and they were quick and desperate to hire people for their army. I thought it quite absurd that they would allow a woman into their army, though, for reasons I cannot explain.
They are now giving me a chance to settle back into whatever was once my lifestyle.
And they have given me clothing. I hate to see those damn boots again, though. They want me to wear this, but I fear to. I am not sure I want to lose what is now me for whatever was formerly. What would happen to me? And where is she now?
Is she dead? In her book she mentioned that she had a feeling she would die on the table. In a way, hadn't she? And her body was simply being recycled? Either way, I didn't like the idea of the whole thing.
The man who recognized my number is a man who calls himself Arson, but that is obviously some kind of nickname, for he explained to me that his real name is Maxwell Johnson. He tells me that my name was once Victoria Chanscler, and he tells me that somewhere in this little book I am writing in is everything about me.
He insists that I will remember once I have read, but I recall nothing.
I tell him that I will start over, but I have no name yet, and I will not make one up on the spot.
I have an unexplainable will to die, and I notice that my fear of death is absent.
What did I do to myself before I became the me I am now?
I'm numb, like a worn soldier.
I have twenty men, and their lives depend on my orders. I fear for their lives more than I do my own. I feel that this is not good, and will lead to my own death before theirs. Recklessness. I want to ask to quit the army, but what will I do in the regular world, which I have heard is doing even worse than here?
I am not excited to go to war, but my arms ache to bear the weight of a weapon. Perhaps a good fight will make me someone again.
I do hope so.
I wish to be a real person, instead of this figure in the shadows.
There is an elderly woman that works in the kitchen, she irritates me very much, though I cannot say why. Her name is Kristine, and she has a young daughter named Kelly. She gawks at me, they both do, but neither say anything, I wish they would get over with their insults and leave me at peace.
I fear that something may happen soon, and I dreamed of digging holes last night.
I believe that someone will die soon.
I fear for them,, and hope that it is a quick death, but at the same time, I am excited to see how and to by what cause.
I am ashamed of this. I feel as if I am a monster, watching a c**k or dog fight.
Arson tells me he pities me, having to relearn so much.
But I heard him comment under his breath that at least I don't remember. I wonder if I had a bad life.
And this is some kind of release.
I do not know what I will do.
Whatever this is, I'm not sure of what to think of it.
I will live on and continue to do whatever it is that I can in order to survive and to keep those around me alive as well.
I do not even know what we are fighting.
I fear for the future
-Thus, I remain nameless
One set after the bombing of the city I awoke in.
 X x __ compos M E N T i S · Thu Apr 10, 2008 @ 07:26am · 0 Comments |
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