

DepartureI don't deserve any of it. Never have. Never will.Departure
It was the summer of 1929, and I was nineteen years old. I didn't deserve it then. I now write in the year 1940 as the Second Great War rages on in Europe. I still don't deserve it.
I was born Peter Michael Christian, Jr., in 1910. My parents are Mary and Peter Christian, Sr., and we lived quite the well-to-do life seeing as Father was a very prominent figure in Parliament. He gained much positive recognition and respect for his influential leadership during the First Great War.


Looking Forward?In the heat of the Invasion of Normandy, Isaac was severely wounded by a land mine. After being cared for by the medical officers, he woke up to silence and the black velvet lining of his eyes. He had to make sure about the state of his condition. He tried to scream but only felt the vibrations from his throat. He moved his hand in front of his face and blinked. No effect. The smell of gunpowder and taste of blood were still fresh on his mind.Looking Forward?
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All alone in her nirvana.
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Still I want and still I ache but still I wait to see you again...
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Don't ever shut up
[link]
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whaat.
the hell.
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Still I want and still I ache but still I wait to see you again...
--
whaat.
the hell.
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Still I want and still I ache but still I wait to see you again...
it's ok.
--
whaat.
the hell.
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