Dear L;

I'm scared. I never thought those words would leave me lips, but I'm so scared. I shouldn’t be here, none of us should and it's all so wrong. The locals eyes are so dark and there is no thanks in their eyes. They aren't happy that we're there. They want us gone from their cities, gone from their towns, gone from their country. And we all know it. I should say most of us know that. Some people here insist that we are doing the right thing . I fail to see how that's possible. I mean, how can we be welcome here yet those around us continue to fall? There's bloodshed, so much bloodshed, and I don't want to hear the sound of a gun ever again. I can't escape it though; none of us can and that's just the way things are.

But yeah, I'm scared. I never used to be sacred before moments like this. I use to tell you and everyone that I wasn't scared. I guess I lied. Or I just kept to myself in denial so I wouldn't find myself regretting this profession later on. I mean, I never thought for a second that this might be wrong. But now, as I sit here in the dust and dirt thousands of miles away from everything that I know and love; away from all of the things that are familiar, that make sense; from all of the things that I understand. I guess I don't want to die. I'm young, there are so many things that I want to do, to... It's hard admitting that I was wrong, but as I watch them zip the body bag of yet another one of my comrades I can't hep but know...

I was wrong and I'm scared.