I was lonely.
In the depths of despair really. I was by myself during the largest war in history. It was the best of times and the worst of times. The best of times because it was beautiful to see so many people fighting for the same cause, united as it were against an evil force and with love for humanity in their hearts. But it was also the worst of times because of that very same evil force and the people who were so afraid, they turned to evil themselves to cope with the evil around them. Not exactly my idea of coping, but to each their own.
But now has come the time to be honest with myself. I am suffering from an acute bout of something terrible. What is it, you ask? Something that can be as debilitating as death. Something that hurts far worse. Are you ready for it?
I am suffering from a disease of the heart known as Sorrow and Self Pity. I have denied it for so long that finally admitting it almost feels good.
Admitting to it doesn’t make it go away unfortunately, but the thing is, I have finally found the courage to fight it. Hitherto, I have been succumbing to it with nary a resistance. You see, I have lost my family. My parents died a year or so ago, and if that weren’t enough, my dear aunt who had taken me in and was only a few years older than myself – older than eighteen – had enlisted in the Red Cross core of nurses. She was recently killed in a bombing. I am holding her tags in my hand now. She was like a beloved older sister to me and the only thing in the way of family I had left. And to top it all off, there is little chance that I will ever marry. I am the homeliest girl you have ever seen, and no one would want to make me his bride.
So. Those are all the reasons I have been moping, there is no better word for it. It has been moping. Definitely, decidedly, and distinctly moping. Don’t you love alliteration? But now I am getting distracted. I have finally decided to do something about this incessant drudging around my room and being useless. My aunt made something spectacular out of her life by volunteering for a just and honorable cause. So, I, now being old enough to join, shall follow in her footsteps. As soon as I finish this, I shall forthwith, take myself to the nearest volunteer station, and without a bit of hesitation, with bravado in my voice and face, sign my name to their list.
Oh, foot! Who am I kidding? I am scared to death! Scared to death of dying. Scared of leaving the safety and comfort of home. But this is something that must be done. If others can send their sons, husbands, and brothers off to fight in this blasted war. . . if others can bear them dying. . . If others can endure going themselves into the thick of the battle, girls like me, and being useful and a help, then why too can’t I make a difference and submit myself to the same fate?
I shall. And that is the way of it. Nothing shall deter me from my purpose. I shall do something that will make my family, even if they are in heaven, proud of me. Or, I shall die trying.
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By God’s Grace,