I wake up at night in a cold sweat. I toss and turn on my bed. I am afraid to close my eyes for fear I will see my friends. The ghost I left behind, on the battle field. The people on who I could depend. They are gone and I am here and it just not fair. I keep their memory trapped deep down inside, sometimes I cannot silence their voices, I just want to die. People tell me that it is ok, but the weren't there. They don't know what I went through, so how can they say that they care? I keep fighting the battle even though the war is over for me. I guess I just have to accept that I brought the battle home with me.