life's little quirks

I've fallen into a particularly disturbing pattern. A pattern of self-pity. I hate it. I really can't even describe it on paper... which is just as disturbing. I don't even want to; it would make it real. It would make this last week real... but this isn't real life. I don't live a "real person's" life. I live a life most don't know about... they hear about it, but don't talk about it. They make their "contributions"... little yellow magnets tacked on their cars... Red Fridays... "thank your husband for his service" comments. I'm still wondering if anyone thinks about those left behind, and their "service". I can see it... the look I get from people who live outside of this war. It's a look full of disbelief, and pity. They don't believe this is actually happening. I remember, I was one of those people. It wasn't "real", then. Now, it's just a nightmare. It's a nightmare that's got 4 months left... it's a nightmare where I can't freaking sleep if not just to dream. It's a fucking nightmare. I just want to dream for a while.