I have only ever known Guilt to have one weakness, one not easily given and not easily found: Forgiveness... In truth, Guilt’s strength lies not in the failure of others to grant us forgiveness, but in our failure to forgive ourselves.

Without their uniforms, they were probably nobodies, rejects. Give a man a uniform. Give him a few sparkly badges, a purpose, a gun... and suddenly, he was no longer just another kid trying to make it through life without being ridiculed. Suddenly, he was a part of something. Something important. Something powerful. Something greater than he could ever be on his own. It was amazing how empowering the group could be.

My emotions are invisible, untouchable – invincible even – and their power far outweighs my own. And so it seems unfair that for all the little I can do to them, they can do so much to me.

This world owes us nothing. Existence is not indebted to us. Humanity lives under this misconception that we deserve life’s blessings, that we deserve happiness. But in truth, life owes us nothing.

I believe in the ability to choose. I believe this life is made up of our choices and their consequences – the good and the bad. I do not believe in letting anything up to fate. We are the makers of our own destinies, our own futures, our own paths. To blindly follow is an insult to the miracle of being human. To be human is to make choices; the moment you allow others to make decisions for you is the moment you do an injustice to not only mankind but to yourself.

When we stand up for what we believe in – for what’s right – there is always a chance that we risk the very things we fight for: our safety, our lives, our freedom. But if we stand down, the risk is definite.

Life is fleeting, yes, but also eternal; it will always find a way to begin again.

I have only ever known Guilt to have one weakness, one not easily given and not easily found: Forgiveness...In truth, Guilt’s strength lies not in the failure of others to grant us forgiveness, but in our failure to forgive ourselves.

I can see her struggling to find the right word. Death seems so harsh. Passing so oblique. Some things are beyond words, I suppose, and she never finishes the statement. It seems right, that her words should fall into oblivion; after all, she—like me, like everyone—has no words for what follows, for the unknowable, only her hopes and prayers and an unwavering faith in something more.

And it seemed as though for a moment, the world encapsulated them in a giant sigh. As if the world was exhausted by humanity—by the bellows of war and bullets, of hateful cries and grieving tears. Of all the pain, the endless pain humanity had brought into its peaceful existence. A great heaving sigh to wash it all away. But like the sea, when washed away, war only crashed harder, a surging line of arched backs and brackish tears.