I’m 40 now with a wife and three children. I look at them and feel only love. Where would I be without them? Where would they be without me?
I sit consumed, crippled by guilt. I was young, stupid, easily led, too ready to look for a cause, for a fight. For a chance to kill, to maim other people’s wives and children. And children? How could I? How could I be so cruel? I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve to die like my friends. There is no paradise for me: only this hell of my own making.
I sit consumed, crippled by guilt. I was young, stupid, easily led, too ready to look for a cause, for a fight. For a chance to kill, to maim other people’s wives and children. And children? How could I? How could I be so cruel? I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve to die like my friends. There is no paradise for me: only this hell of my own making.
