There is a War Within Me

“There is a war within me,” she murmured. “And both sides are at an impasse. The battles rage day by toiling day and at the end of it, when all the soldiers are dead or dying, I start to think that maybe I have made my choice. Maybe I can do without you. Maybe I can learn to love a world where you do not exist. But the next morning, there is a new battle, with new soldiers, soldiers made of fabric and wind and cotton, soldiers that may rise from the dead each night, each day, and fight my battle, fight my own heart. Each day I am reborn with hope in my chest, searing, painful hope that tells me today is a new day! Today I can love. Today I do not have to imagine a world empty of that. And each day I am worn down all over again, until all of my cotton soldiers are in ribbons across the battlefield, and all that is left is my grief, all that is left is me, mourning the day I met you. The day the war began.”

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