Sometimes. I watch hours of combat footage out of Ukraine. I do not know why. Maybe I feel as if I need to see the worst of this world. Maybe to remember the faces I'll never meet, or the ones never to be seen again. Maybe to stir myself into action. Maybe more, maybe less. Maybe.

Sorrow.

Regret.

Anger.

This is what runs through my heart as I watch the destruction of history, homes, and the countless stories and lives. "Why is it we fight?" I'll often ask, staring at the dead faces. I already knew.

We fight because we have to.

I wish I could talk with them. Be there to support them. To take them to their family.

Don't them them break you, brothers and sisters.