Sunday, February 15, 2009

-Sniff-

Gosh, I've just finished the book -Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction-... And truthfully the ending was kinda abrupt. It has a nice ending, but right before the ending, a series of unfortunate stuff happen to the book's protagonist that made me think a little too much. I don't normally think so far, as it actually has very little impact on my own personal life.

However, after reading this book I somewhat sympathize with the victims of war as well as the soldiers. Being helpless and anticipating dead is very horrible. Killing people is also not as easy as it seems. Living in fear of being killed in the next battle is also as horrible.

Gosh, the words "Glenn ask me if I'd ever seen a dead body. I said that I hadn't. He said, 'I have.'" are kinda stuck in my head.

When Glenn's best friend, Robbie, died, it got worst.

"Half an hour later, the phone call I was dreading. It was Glenn.

He accused me of being responsible for Robbie's death. He said, 'You told me that I was fighting for democracy, but Robbie's dead, Dad. Robbie's dead!'

He said, 'You're my dad, you shouldn't have let me go to Iraq, you should have stopped me.'

I let him shout and swear at me and didn't try to defend myself, because he was correct in everything he said.

When I told him to try and get some sleep, he said 'After what I seen today, I'll never sleep again.'"

FYI, the kids are about 18 years of age.

Argh! I'm kinda morose now I need to get this off my system. I will be alright tomorrow! I will snap out of this stupid over-emotional moment of being morose over stuff that I can do nothing about even if I sit here and be depressed over it!!!

A poem taken from the book, which is obviously taken from somewhere else.

Survivors

No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain
Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.
Of course they're "longing to go out again,"--
These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk,
They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed
Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,--
Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud
Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride ...
Men who went out to battle, grim and glad;
Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.

Siegfried Sassoon, OCT 1917
  • Location: Home - Going to sleep soon...
  • melancholic and so on and so forth...
  • PS: Dun suit my mood at all...

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