Hell broke loose. All you might be able to accuse me of was being passive. Being myself obviously wasn't enough for the world. Well, I don't need the crap they're feeding me. I do believe in God, but does that mean there is no god? Not as far as I can tell, and thus, it only makes sense to me that just because I never talk about my feelings, it doesn't mean they're not there.
My husband made this mistake before. Yeah, I can remember that. He once told me how I was 'too silent, it makes me feel awkward when around you'. His honesty was something to be proud of, yet it flustered me. I was too silent? I never really got to ask him what exactly he meant, as his death only a week after that remark. I miss him. Now that I mention it... Don't think i don't care anymore, or that I just don't work hard for what I want. How did I know that he wasn't gone... I searched... I examined the wreck... I didn't want to believe he was dead back then.
My husband had been my friend ever since we both graduated from the training. We shared interests like writing, reading and painting. The stuff you never really get to do when you're in training, you know. I can remember how Adam always seemed to get his hands on paint and brushes, even when I was utterly unable to. Ah, how he surprised me time after time. He was much more into the action than I ever was, or were willing to. I loved Him. Yet, I never got the nerve to actually tell him how I felt. Always hoping it would be clear. Hoping he would figure it out herself. Taking initiative never was my biggest forte.
The war raged for years inside of my body, I take it. But then again, I never got very far in that war. I had my own war to fight...for him.