The day started like any other day. I woke up. Got ready and got out of my house. I knew that it was the last time I was closing this door. That I will never see my home again. The home where I grew up. The home where my parents said their last words and where my children spoke their first words. That house. My house. And today I was leaving that.
I know I don’t have any choice anymore. I can’t live there alone anymore. Just like my parents couldn’t live on their own towards the end of their lives. But I am not that close to my end. Or am I?
I get confused easily these days. I don’t always remember everything. But I do remember when the attack started. News channels said that we will win in six days. That we were too powerful. Then six days later, the news still claimed that we are fighting strongly. It will be just a matter of a few months. Few months. Then a few more. It quickly became a year. Then two. Then more.
The armies started recruiting. First, it was voluntarily. Anyone who joined would get food coupons for their entire family for an entire year. Many joined. Many got married and then joined.
But it was not enough.
After two more years, the mandatory drafting started. All men and woman older than 16 and younger than 40 were drafted. Only pregnant women were exempted. And of course the rich. They were exempt from everything anyways.
But even that was not enough.
They lowered the starting age to 13. They sent 13-year-olds to fight the war they did not start. They increased the upper limit too. They sent people as old as 60 to a war they will never see the end.
Years went by and the death count kept increasing. Nothing mattered anymore. Even the top 1% could not escape this time. No one had any misconceptions about it anymore. No one believed that it will end before humanity ended.
My eldest son went in the first phase. Rest of my family followed in subsequent rounds. Every friend I ever had. Everyone I ever knew got sucked in this one by one. My closed neighbour left two years ago. He bid me goodbye while getting into his car. He too was the last from his family like me.
Today it’s my turn. Today at the age of 92 I am supposed to go fight a war that should never have started in the first place. I can barely stand. My vision is blurry. My hands have no strength left. But I have to go because there is no one else left. I have to go because there is nothing left for me. I am not going to end this war. I am going to end my miserable life. I gave up long ago. Now it’s my time to let go.