Long Way Gone Monologue

Solitariness is an element that the war has shrouded me with. Furthermore, the same comrades the abominable bloodshed bestowed me, Chance’s kleptomaniac fingers heisted them away. Yet, I cannot bear to brood about them, considering that whenever I endeavor, an iota of me ruptures. Ultimately, the men were my all, even beyond my own blood. Of, course I treasure my family dearly, but it is too faint of a memory. And, without them, the days transpire inconsequentially. Moreover, day by day we are becoming feeble, together with the enemy growing tenacious and charging in with tremendous coercion. Despite hearing talks of truce, we ought to only confide in the facts. After all, it is only whisper; trusting the rumors will only quell our souls,
In the beginning, there were one hundred and fifty men, and now there are only twenty. Ultimately, the past few days were arduous, and now we are awarded with a reprieve. Though, the meager journey is reticent, my dizzying thoughts pound against my skull. And together with the turbulence of the lorry, my legs unconsciously sink down to the ground. Instantaneously the tears held in rouse to build. But, they must not be allowed to rain to the ground, pertaining to the fact that I am a soldier, and a soldier must not cry. We are given a mediocre meal, it is nothing compared to the beans we once had, or the roast we scrounged, but it is something, for we spent numerous nights hungry at the front. It should feel consoling, rather it does not sit well in my
I even feel the wind picking up, and scope a thick mist veiling moon. All at once, I hear it, that repulsive sound which has become an everyday reality: the bombs. “Vreeeeeeeeeeeeeeew! Booooom!” Simultaneously, all the happiness, and cheer, distort into something so grim. Scattered haphazardly are the unmoving bodies and misshapen heads, legs, and arms, all stained crimson red, of the people I hold so dear to my heart. Parallel to that, I jump out of sleep, sweating and breathing forcibly. Now, sleep is no longer a blessing; it is a curse. It no longer brings rest and relaxation to my weary body, it only induces the ghastly nightmares. Since, the Sandman will not grant me sleep, I steady up and decide to proceed for a stroll. As a sense of habit, I bring my gun, for defense. Slowly, along an unpaved road, I tread. All the suppressed thoughts stored in my mind shriek out. The sharp memories of the world before war and the days of my youth flash before my eyes and force me to crave for the past. Once again, the pain and sorrow push me to tears. However, this time, I permit them to plunge out and absorb into the earth. Accordingly, the waterfall of tears continues on for what seems an eternity, and so do the