There are no winners in this war.
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Gunshots rang through the air. Standing in the middle of a devastated city, I could do nothing. All I could do was listen to the eardrum-shattering sound and tremble in fear. Thick smoke enveloped the city, and in the black-and-white world, the only light visible was the flames.
The blazing flames brought home the dire state of this city. Having lost my parents and friends in a war that lasted longer than expected, I, left alone, am suffering a pain worse than death.
The constant sound of gunfire and bombs, even the sound of people, now brought back fear to me. The scratches I received from running away from soldiers firing indiscriminately have become scars, and if I even misstepped on the rubbish-strewn floor, I would fall in excruciating pain.
The days passed slowly, and the old-fashioned way of telling time only increased my frustration. But the sight of corpses wandering aimlessly was unaccustomed. The stench of decaying bodies, the brutal sight of bullet wounds exposing their flesh.
How many people could endure this? The prolonged war has left them mentally exhausted and terrified. Adding the corpses to the mix could drive them mad. Perhaps going mad or dying would be a better option.
But despite all this, I can't die. It's the fear of death that keeps me alive in this horrific war. Sometimes, the red lure of death seduces me. A vague spark of hope, a hope that the afterlife might be more peaceful than this horrific, ugly reality, flickers, but it quickly dies out.
I'm still in my late teens, with a bright future ahead of me, and I have so many things I want to do when I get older. I absolutely cannot die in this brutal war. Even if I have to take up arms and fight, absolutely not.
/
I see myself smiling brightly, chatting with my parents over fruit. I see myself laughing and joking with my friends at school. I see myself smiling happily while enjoying the delicious meal my sister bought me. I see myself running hard toward my goal, a little tired, and finally achieving it, shedding tears of joy.
There are many more brilliant moments for me than this. No matter how trivial or small, I've felt much happiness in my daily life. I remember them vividly. They're all there, small and big.
But now, there's no smile on my face. I haven't raised a smile since the war began. There was a time when even the smallest tidbits brought me joy, but now I'm so obsessed with a tiny piece of chocolate that I'd risk my life for it.
My old life was so glorious, yet I don't know why I'm risking my life in this dire environment. I've already lost everything, and it's irretrievable.
adriftAs I walk, people die right beside me. The media is already buzzing with stories of war. But what help can they possibly offer? Even as I walk the path of recovery, I wonder: Is this truly the right path for me?
We're practically dead, and I wonder if we're truly alive. My mind is filled with questions. I'm tired of waiting in endless fear, wondering when this war will end.
I've seen people, exhausted by the long wait, turn a gun to their own heads. If you lack that courage, you must at least have the courage to survive. But even the courage I once had is gradually fading away.
Ultimately, I, too, make the same choice as those people. Unwilling to die to the enemy, I choose to kill myself. This, too, requires immense courage. I feared death, so I avoided it, but now I'm killing myself. No matter how much I struggle and struggle to survive, it's difficult to survive here.
In this oppressive war, there are survivors, but no winners. Even those who survive will likely have many scars.
This is a place where people point guns at each other's heads, and the sound of silent gunfire pierces your ears. It's no different from a war zone.A place where tension and fear hover. Everyone watches each other closely, trying their best to emerge victorious, but there are no winners.
The victims trapped here are countless. They fight fiercely, biting and tearing at each other, but ultimately, only wounds remain. This is a familiar space: the "classroom."
Students here are required to attend classes under the direction of the Office of Education, and they fight a fierce battle for the CSAT and university admission. Countless students are unable to pursue their dreams, their dreams crushed by the motto that studying is the only way to survive. They are the true victims and perpetrators.
Some become victims, fighting fiercely under all kinds of stress and hurt, but others vent their stress on other students and become perpetrators. This is not their choice.
Just as soldiers who were supposed to protect their country end up committing indiscriminate violence at the president's direction, so too are students. They had no choice.
Some, exhausted by the seemingly unattainable goals and the ever-increasing burden of life, have given up on the classroom and even life itself. Yet, others persevere through those difficult times and live confidently.
Some had impressive qualifications, some had nice houses and cars, some had wealth, and some had nothing. But we all endured difficult times and worked desperately. For that alone, we deserve respect.
There are those who did not survive this war.
There are survivors of this war.
But there are no winners in this war.
There are no losers either.