AN: This is the kind of thing where [insert character] doubts his/her battle for a "just" cause that he/she used to have lots of faith in. Yes, I pressed the enter button a lot when writing this. No, it's not broken. It's perfectly fine. Yes, I'll stop babblefishing now.

What do we fight for?

No one knows.

Are we just pawns in a game of divine chess between the gods? Are we just answering for grievances thousands of years old? Are we fighting for peace, for liberty like the mortals believe? Are we just fighting simply because we are in too deep? Are we fighting because we believe somehow, massacring each other will bring loved ones back?

Perhaps one day we will find out.

Perhaps never.

Is all this worth it?

No one knows.

All these lies, all this deceit, all this pain and anger and promises of revenge. Friendships and trust and camaraderie lying in pieces on the ground, and being told good job for completing the mission.

Every day, there are cold bodies that will never wake up. Devastation, once-warm and friendly people now glaring with hostility and anger from the ruins of their homes. Red, too much red, staining the battlefield, homes, hands, and souls alike.

Perhaps one day it will be worth it.

Not today.

We tell each other we make a difference. Do we?

No one knows.

Can't go back now, we're in too deep. Can't go back and pick up the pieces and glue them back together. Can't go back to sunshine and smiles and innocence long since lost. Can't stop the merciless metal from finding warm flesh, while others watch with helplessness, horror, or savage glee. Can't stop warm life bleeding out onto the ground, and last farwells. Can't remember what happiness feels like.

Rivers of tears and blood no one can stop, for they've long since overflowed and taken us all. We're in too deep and drowning, and we can't find the surface.

Perhaps one day the waters will recede.

It will be far too late.