Monday, May 16, 2011

The things they carried....




Not knowing simple names, ones that he should. It's a shame for him, a shame he puts upon himself. Can a person ever be so lost that they have to create this mask? Something that makes them feel secure, when everyone around them dies. You can't find your  ego at a memorial wall, honoring those heroes. Die trying, don't care about names, throw them away. Concentrate on keeping yourself alive. Remember, those are your brothers, keep them alive too. You can picture the man you saved from a "shit field", yet you can't remember his "fucking" name. It makes you feel, like you don't know "shit about shit". Mainly, because you don't...

You go crazy in there, you know? You start dancing around open fires, while wearing skeleton necklaces. It's like your dancing for death. The ultimate heroine even falls short of faith. A void, vacant feeling, that is so ignorant. Refuse to listen, because you rather hunt, and hunt. Hiding in the night, hide, just hide. Feel that breeze? Hear that music playing in the distance? It's your brain telling you to run for your life! Why won't you move? You think that you're important because you can shoot a rifle and stalk your prey. Guess what, lions do that everyday. The difference between you and them? They don't become empty. They don't suffocate from surrounding darkness. They stay weary in the night; for at night awaits a cub in it's den.


You can't ever explain this supposed feeling of "war". It's a, "You had to be there" experience. It doesn't matter if it's the full on truth; it's the importance of a message.  Lies, maybe are considered truths. Truths, are considered lies. The truth is too hard to accept, the lies are the easiest to swallow. It's an impatient self revelation and fear. You want to tell, but you can't. Some of the shit is just too disrespectful to tell. Don't face the fears, the fears face you; head on. Confrontation, something everyone hates. Who wants to be told, "I remember when..." Half the time, it's something you are too embarrassed about.


  1. Why is O'Brien writing books, if he hates re-living his past?
  2. Are some of those names made up?
  3. Was Mary-Anne the first female soldier?
  4. Does he feel like his friend suicides because he didn't mention the field and Kiowa, in his short story?
  5. Did anybody else read his books? 
  6. Why does he never mention himself in the war?

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