When The Great War was Over

And there it was.
Just like that — the end of the war.
No treaty signed. No peace offered.
Only surrender.

“Until you figure out what you need to take care of and prioritize, I can’t progress farther romantically with you.”
Those were his exact words — a cannon blast straight through my chest.

– excerpt Text from Mr. merchant

I almost wish he had used real artillery, instead of killing me with kindness.
Because when the smoke cleared and the dust settled,
I wasn’t standing hand in hand with the person I thought I’d survive this with.
I was alone,
walking through the ruins by myself —
which, in the end,
was all I ever truly had.

Here’s the thing about The Great War:
Nothing is ever guaranteed.
You lose soldiers on the battlefield.
You lose parts of yourself you thought were indestructible.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you come back —
just not as the person who went in.

Maybe I am unlovable.
Maybe I am fucked up.
Maybe I don’t know how to handle the weight of my own emotions.

But I can tell you this:
I honor my troops.
I get us out alive.
And like every good general knows —
sometimes, surviving is winning.