My English teacher told us a story today.
I know this is long. But it's important, and if you would read it, I would appreciate it.
Her uncle was in World War II. He was a part of the D-Day at Omaha Beach. There were about 300 people in his squadron.
It was hell. At one point, he jumped into a trench. He turned, and saw a good friend. He said something along the lines of, "Boy, am I glad to see you!" and gave his good friend a pat on the shoulder. His friend slumped over. He was dead. Her uncle was one of the 12 survivors in his squadron.
Her uncle ended up with shrapnel throughout his legs. It hurt when he layed down or sat, so until he would pace. Until he practically collapsed, he would just pace back and forth. The doctors didn't believe him. They thought he had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was in physical pain for so long.
Years later, her uncle was still disturbed from this event. One day, he woke up very early in the morning, and asked his teenage daughter if she wanted to go to breakfast. Like you, me, or any teenager would respond, she said, "Not now, dad! I'm sleeping! Go away!" About an hour later, he committed suicide.
He had a wife and six kids.
Everything I said was true. I didn't exaggerate. I'm not looking for faves, comments, or attention.
I just want people to know that they should try to be thankfull. It could be so much worse.
If you read this all... thank you <3