They don’t have power?
Oh of course they do.
No amount of sugar-coated epics ever paint the true picture. Its not resilience. Its the lack of choice. Its like walking on the burning coal laid out on the street because there’s no other road. And you must walk. There is no bravery here, no courage. All these sugar-coated words of “you’re so brave” give no relief. Its all fear and helplessness.
Tragedy is not poetic. The smell of blood is not metaphor of bravery. Wars aren't courageous. Its all brutal. “If you wouldn't have gone through, what you went through, you won't be who you are now". Of course. If there was an alternate truth, the trauma wouldn't have seeped into my skin on the randomest moments. My hands wouldn't be so cold at all times.
But here, in this truth without an alternative, tears are not welcomed. Its a minefield. You walk each step anticipating the next one being on a mine. This reality with no alternative paints a brutal picture so they offer us an alternative. For their own ease. In their words, there’s always an undertone of “It mustn’t be that bad”.
But yes it's all coming out of good will. All of these epics on wars that paints us as the heroes. There are no heroes here. There's no victory. It's the kind of war that forces you to write your own eulogies and walk around with a sword stabbed in your stomach. Would it have been a fairytale, the monsters would've turned into ash or would've asked for redemption.
But it's life. You must smile at the monsters. You must offer them tea. You must go on.
It must go on.