I Survived

December 24th, 2033,

Today was just as exhausting as every other day. No matter what I try to do, or what I am taught, each day, I still have visions, hear the sounds, smell the smoke, and question how I managed to get this far. 

Adonis 

December 25th, 2033

After writing that last journal entry, I did not sleep. To be completely honest, ever since it happened, the night before an event of any kind is always a struggle. Either I’m not tired because of the medicine they give us at the home, or I end up watching a documentary on TV. I know I shouldn’t because I always end up lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling when, all of a sudden, they come. Like getting hit with a brick, all the flashbacks hit me. At this point, I wouldn’t even call them flashbacks, and the word memories isn’t strong enough; they’re more visceral. The best way I could describe them to someone is to have them remember the last thing they ate before they got sick. Even though they recover, eating that same thing will always be a challenge. That is how I have felt ever since that terrible day. 

Around 10:00 a.m., my daughter came to pick me up from the nursing home. By the way, doctor, if you are reading this, know that I am not the one who needs help; if anything, these lazy and poorly trained workers are the ones who need it. 

When I got to my daughter’s house, the kid got up from the little chair next to the fireplace and hugged me. We ate breakfast, and talked for a little bit, which allowed my daughter to clean up the dishes before letting the kid open his presents. At that point, we gathered around the tree in the living room and watched the kid start to open his presents one by one. Watching him reminded me of how simple and pleasant things used to be – . Wwhen things could be viewed in a much more positive light, and every day was worth waking up for. I got lost in thought during the opening of the first two or three presents. I was able to maintain composure, but my mind started spiraling. I saw the blimp appear over the mountain and the army that began marching toward the town we had settled in. Then the tanks followed right behind all of the weaponized cars and motorcycles. Call it a Christmas miracle, but when the kid opened present number four and called my name out, I clicked back into reality faster than I ever had before. 

He called me over to show off his new virtual, augmented, something or other that looked like ski goggles. It was the most excited I had seen him in a long while, and he was eager to have me try the goggles. I politely declined and gave him the basic response, “I’m getting too old for all this new technology.” He was satisfied enough to where he just nodded and then tried the goggles on himself. Once he had figured out how they worked, he was basically in his own world, so I chatted with his parents for a little while until my sleep deprivation kicked in, and I nodded off to sleep in the reclining chair next to the tree. 

I doubt I was asleep for more than thirty minutes when I saw it and I opened my eyes. It was the valley. Our valley. It was as clear as day; it was almost as if I was standing right in front of the base where we were stationed. I couldn’t help but freeze and may have even stopped breathing as I quickly stood up from my chair, and once I had looked around at my surroundings, I fell to my knees; I stared out at what was once an area of destruction. The sounds of missiles, rockets, grenades, and guns that used to fill my ears with that inner ringing sensation that was so distinct had somehow fallen silent. I heard the birds instead. My nose twitched instinctively, expecting the same sensations as when smoke and smog used to fill it, but this time the coughing fit never came. I looked around in awe, and yet - there was nothing. Not a single person, car, or bike; there weren’t even clouds. There was only tranquility. It had taken me only a few seconds to find the same hill the enemies had marched through, and the sun was setting behind the mountain. As it started to turn dark, I could see the stars shining like little sky nightlights, and then, I felt something pulling against the sides of my head. My head was starting to throbbed, and. I couldn’t tell what was happening. And Doc, when you read this, I want you to truly understand that I was not on any drugs., and I know that I was awake. 

Although my head was hurting,  and everything had turned black, I noticed something. I wasn’t depressed. Not only that, but I wasn’t angry or lonely; I was somewhat okay. Then I was suddenly back in the living room, with the kid having a big grin and holding those goggles in his hands. I don’t know what got into me, Doc, but I went over and gave him a big hug, and for once. I felt at peace. 

I mentioned before how this kid was the only thing I had to look forward to, but respectfully, he isn’t the only thing now. Instead, he is the only thing I am grateful for. Not just because he cares about me and makes an effort, but because if he hadn’t put those goggles on me and let me see the valley and how beautiful it is all these years later, I might have done something to myself that I would have regretted. So I thank you, doctor, for giving me this journal, and I thank the kid for helping me escape this cage of pain that I have been in for so long. This might be a bold decision, but this will be my last journal entry. Think what you want, but I know deep down that I have begun healing.

Sincerely, 

Adonis