As I detach myself from the weekend routine with some friends, a decent proposal was sent to my mobile. But judging from whosoever sent it, it was bound to turn into an indecent one, but nonetheless I took it, much like how Snow white took a bite from the red luscious apple that the wicked witch gave her. I called the person he mentioned who will also be joining the feud for liquor and confirmed that he will be coming as well. All was set and ready to go. I went in to the field knowing that he who invited me had more than just lustful intentions. As I make my way onto the room I slowly re-think my motives for coming here. Re-assuring myself that no matter what happens I will remain steady with my words and actions. Loud music, smoky air and a dim lit room welcomed me along with two significant people in my life. I already knew what would happen from this point on. As I close the door. Thoughts and ideas poured into my head. The feud for the condemned liquid that has shaken the very body and even the psyche of humans has begun. I slowly indulged myself in the pleasures of this life along with 2 of my comrades. Conversations turn to reminiscing of the past, and reminiscing the past turned to re-living them. As we finish the single bottle of the damned fluid, intoxication sets in. The feeling that our innards were set ablaze grew stronger by the minute. As we try and shake it off by dancing to the beat of the loud music that has flooded the smoked filled room, it slowly gets the better of us. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The burning sensation just grew more and more. Moving around and grooving to the rhythm of the music just intensified it and you can literally feel the body heat emanating from each of us. The host has decided to simmer down a bit and he turned the music a notch down as well as turned the lights off. The three of us were lying on the bed, intoxicated, on heat and can barely stand. The abysmal night dragged on and on. As we lay on the bed the lustful intentions slowly materialized. Thoughts turn into words and words turn into actions as the progressive deterioration of our prides went on. The actions soon become senseless as it goes on because we started to skip the thoughts and just did the things that are taboo to many people in a spontaneous way. The pain, the pleasure and the shame drove us all crazy at some point. But we were too intoxicated and our senses are too dull to entertain the thought that what we are doing is an abomination. As we finish what seems to be a battle to purge the lust in our minds, one of my comrades was already consumed by the temporary slumber brought about by this war while the other one could barely stand. I gathered all the remaining strength in me, stood up and walked away from the battlefield drenched in pure white blood. I carry with me not the honor of victory or the glorious win over the war, but a battle scar inflicted by my very own comrade. A scar that will always remind me of the pain, pleasure and shame of that battle we once fought. A scar brought upon by the eternal warmongering of heroes who fought their own comrades.
"Battle scars do not mean you have won the war nor have lost it. It only symbolizes that you have shed your own blood to do what you should and what you could to achieve victory."
