i feel as if i lived through these events myself. “you know how he was. if we felt everything twice, he felt it four times.”

i feel heavy. a bit melancholic, leaving this world behind by turning the last page. needing it to continue, to stay here for a while longer.

andrew… what the fuck. few books had me stare at the ceiling, even going back to check if i missed some pages at the end. but no, that’s all we get.

seeing yourself in characters in media, when they are the most tortured souls to ever wander this earth stings ngl. but i cannot hate the author for the portrayal of grief, when losing someone means losing a part of yourself. it just feels so real. the anxiety, when you’re unsure if what you’re feeling is normal or even allowed. the confusion, when life reminds you that living in your own head only gets you so far and you get pulled back into reality with such violence.

Oh boy. I don't know what sucked me in more by page 60. Was it Ellwood, with his romanticist attitude for life, always quoting poetry to say what was left unsaid in between breaths? As if to say what we have is too perfect to be real life, it must come from story.

Was it Gaunt, who, while so different from me, I could empathize with? Being a gay man in 1914 or in 2026, me and him both needing to be mindful of our surroundings. Once a line is crossed, can you go back to familiarity or will you be dragged away by the waves of consequence, struggling to find your footing in this new reality you just created?

Waiting in the trenches with strange men for the bombs to stop, as the German soldiers did on the other side of the battle field, a mute observer, like a ghost. I can't help but bond with them, too. I will miss the bickering, the smartass responses, the quiet moments, as one of our comrade's breath ceases but I am the only one who has time to grief, for they have to push on.

And then, as we know, the war ends. But that's not true. The gunfire and dropping of bombs might've stopped but what we are left with is a new war to be endured. From rebuilding cities, entire countries, to families welcoming back their sons, who are only their sons in flesh. This book takes its time showing us the impact of war and that's when I actually started holding my breath. When a pitiful smile pushes a veteran over the edge. When a well-meant i'm sorry ends in smashed glass and a weeping mother. When they try to physically move as far away as possible from the ugliness staining everything.

The suspiciously hungry and round bug: