Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Aug 30, 2016 14:14:47 GMT -5
the only thing we're allowed to do is believe
a hero
So many people want to be a hero, growing. They want to be that super-hero. They want to fight crime and deal with the bad guys, putting them behind bars. Reading their favorite character fight for justice, for doing the right thing, they want to be just like them. When they get older, their vision becomes a bit more changed. Super heroes don’t exist like they do in the stories, but they still feel a need for a hero. They think that it’s like in the books. Where you go in one way, and come back out not that much changed, with a touch of makeup and ten gallons of hair gel. They don’t show the horror of being a hero. They think that it’s a choice. The people, they hear hero and automatically think of this striking young man with all four limbs, perhaps a young man in his mid-twenties, with a stunning look and soulful dark eyes that have the hope and light for the future.
They have no idea what it’s like.
Hero! A hero! That’s what the public wants, and so they create up this imagination of one and expect someone to take up the part of it. But what they don’t see, are the heroes all around them. They don’t see the men who were willing to risk their lives, women who knew that they might die out there and yet, they still went. To protect that person, or maybe those people, from suffering a fate worse than theirs. To ensure that they could live the way they did, peacefully.
A lot of heroes I’ve seen never come home. Everyone cheers in hopes and encouragement as they go out into the fight, their hopes riding on our backs. But they don’t cheer when they come back, in dwindled numbers, bleeding, crying, staring down at the pavement as they rewatch the horrors of death over and over in their mind. Watching their best friend, their life-long friend die in front of them, their blood being splattered across the ground. Wondering what they could’ve done, wondering what choice they could’ve made to have that person back next to them.
You don’t know half of what we go through.
A hero? How’s this, since you wanted one so badly? Half the height of what you were expecting, black hair that is almost always slicked back to avoid obstructing vision, dark circles under dark eyes to show the hell that they’ve seen. Friend after friend, comrade after comrade, hero after hero. You think that it’s so great, to fight back for everyone? That we just wake up one day, deciding to be a hero? That we want to be out there? We go out there, because we don’t have a choice.
There’s people we have to protect. And that’s what matters. Death is not an option. You make choices, out there. “Do I do this, or this? Which will cause me the least amount of suffering? Which choice will I regret less?” There’s no noble and legendary part about this job. I never asked for it, never wanted it. But there’s a line that’s been crossed. There are people to defend, no matter how ignorant or stupid. There are lives that can be saved with every fallen enemy.
I can’t be your hero for every time we go out. I can’t be the guy with the green cape to appear from behind that tree and swoop in, saving you from your death, or maybe even your sweetheart, if you’re stupid enough to be a couple on the battlefield. Some times, mistakes are made. I make the wrong choice. But I can’t do anything about it. Wandering about things like that will only get you killed. So you have to keep your head up and try to move on.
You want a hero? Oh, I’m not what you were expecting? Neat freak, perfectionist, cold and harsh. Dark circles, black hair, dark eyes that know the horrors of hell. Short height, not perfectly muscled, big forehead. You’re the one asked for a hero. I’m just the sucker who has to play the part, the one with even brains and skill to do it. But maybe. . . I don’t have to be the spotlight anymore. After all. . .
There’s a new one rising up with a steaming temper and boiling hatred for those that have crushed us for so long.
Right, one can only hope. He’ll have to make the mistakes that’ll teach him about how life works with this. He’s already seen hell, but the floodgates are opening up for what he’s going to go through. He won’t be able to save everyone, like he thinks he might be able to. And he’ll have to make those decisions. “Which choice will I regret less?” You wanted a hero.
So here he is.
They have no idea what it’s like.
Hero! A hero! That’s what the public wants, and so they create up this imagination of one and expect someone to take up the part of it. But what they don’t see, are the heroes all around them. They don’t see the men who were willing to risk their lives, women who knew that they might die out there and yet, they still went. To protect that person, or maybe those people, from suffering a fate worse than theirs. To ensure that they could live the way they did, peacefully.
A lot of heroes I’ve seen never come home. Everyone cheers in hopes and encouragement as they go out into the fight, their hopes riding on our backs. But they don’t cheer when they come back, in dwindled numbers, bleeding, crying, staring down at the pavement as they rewatch the horrors of death over and over in their mind. Watching their best friend, their life-long friend die in front of them, their blood being splattered across the ground. Wondering what they could’ve done, wondering what choice they could’ve made to have that person back next to them.
You don’t know half of what we go through.
A hero? How’s this, since you wanted one so badly? Half the height of what you were expecting, black hair that is almost always slicked back to avoid obstructing vision, dark circles under dark eyes to show the hell that they’ve seen. Friend after friend, comrade after comrade, hero after hero. You think that it’s so great, to fight back for everyone? That we just wake up one day, deciding to be a hero? That we want to be out there? We go out there, because we don’t have a choice.
There’s people we have to protect. And that’s what matters. Death is not an option. You make choices, out there. “Do I do this, or this? Which will cause me the least amount of suffering? Which choice will I regret less?” There’s no noble and legendary part about this job. I never asked for it, never wanted it. But there’s a line that’s been crossed. There are people to defend, no matter how ignorant or stupid. There are lives that can be saved with every fallen enemy.
I can’t be your hero for every time we go out. I can’t be the guy with the green cape to appear from behind that tree and swoop in, saving you from your death, or maybe even your sweetheart, if you’re stupid enough to be a couple on the battlefield. Some times, mistakes are made. I make the wrong choice. But I can’t do anything about it. Wandering about things like that will only get you killed. So you have to keep your head up and try to move on.
You want a hero? Oh, I’m not what you were expecting? Neat freak, perfectionist, cold and harsh. Dark circles, black hair, dark eyes that know the horrors of hell. Short height, not perfectly muscled, big forehead. You’re the one asked for a hero. I’m just the sucker who has to play the part, the one with even brains and skill to do it. But maybe. . . I don’t have to be the spotlight anymore. After all. . .
There’s a new one rising up with a steaming temper and boiling hatred for those that have crushed us for so long.
Right, one can only hope. He’ll have to make the mistakes that’ll teach him about how life works with this. He’s already seen hell, but the floodgates are opening up for what he’s going to go through. He won’t be able to save everyone, like he thinks he might be able to. And he’ll have to make those decisions. “Which choice will I regret less?” You wanted a hero.
So here he is.
that we won't regret the choice we made.
'lil note here
Heya! I'm speaking for myself, the author of this little short thing. I had a certain setting and character in mind when I read this, after watching a recent (as of now) video of a part of a play-through of a game. And then I thought of a few more things. If you don't think that this is appropriate, it's fine, to be honest. I can understand. After all, the setting and character alike are both quite . . . understandable, if you don't want them. I'm not gonna say anything on what the setting is and who's speaking, those who know him will probably catch on pretty quickly, or at least that's what I hope.
Hope you enjoyed my little short script of a story!
Hope you enjoyed my little short script of a story!
if you don't want to die . . . think!
