Only a few weeks left... To join the army and leave every thing behind that is dear to me. My friends, the woman whom I never was able to have for myself, the glimpse of love that I wasn't quiet successful to keep going, my job, my students, my achievements, the things that had been, are being and will be. Everything will be left here to rot. To dissolve under an illusive construct called time. Despite my efforts of rejecting and even disprooving time, now it is the same notion of time that prooves itself to exist. It doesn't expose itself but clearly has a bitter sense of revenge; prooving itself to be by taking my life from my hand and mocking me at the same time; vividly...

"I'll be brave, for I had been a pessimist for all my life and things 'may' work out ok after
I return from my military duty." Even my own consolations lack the power of certainty and
let me sink into that pool of question marks. "Really? Will everything be the same when
I'm back?"

What is braveness? Is it the acceptance of an alien action which I am imposed to take?
Or is it fitting into the sudden turn of events where I am forced to tear apart all
that I've built to this day, with my own hands?

Which is braveness? Putting myself between an approaching bullet and an idea of a
nation which doesn't seem to care about a life that wishes to bloom? Or abandoning
the life -the very life that will be distributed among others to enjoy- that I
inadvertently succeeded in setting properly?

What is braveness when I am keen enough to survive but hapless enough to lose?

What good is braveness when the only thing to remind me of my former glory is nothing but the sweet memory of redemption?

What am I? Am I brave? Or am I lost?

I am made to fit into a man-made fate, trying to proove myself worthy at a price which only I can pay; With my life. Rather standing in front of an approaching bullet than pacing through time with a mothball in my mind...