WWII Loneliness
The year was 1942 and all of my brothers went off to go fight in the war. I was stuck here at home with my parents and some friends at school. I was 17 years old going into my senior year when they left. Since I was a little kid I’ve always wanted to fight for my country just like my dad. He fought in the First World War and he always has interesting stories to tell about his experience in foreign countries. He has always been a hero to me which makes me want to go into the military even more. My dad wasn’t afraid of war, he enjoyed it and was honored to say he is a veteran. My brothers on the other hand wanted to stay home, they didn’t have that kind of patriotic feeling that my dad and I have.
My brothers always kept me company when I got home from school. They weren’t in college so they were at home most of the time or spending time with their friends. Surprisingly, we always got along with each other. After school we would play around outside or go see a movie. When my brothers left I had no one to hang out with and every time I got home from school I would mosey to my room and stay up there until school the next morning. My mom began to worry and she would come to my room every once and awhile to see how I was. I would always say I’m fine but deep down I knew that something was wrong and she did too.
Growing up with two other siblings to hang out with was the best thing I could’ve imagined but once it was taken away from me I had trouble coping with it. I tried going to the movies by myself but it just wasn’t as enjoyable so I asked my dad if he wanted to play outside with me but he always said he didn’t have enough time. I was beginning to feel alone and began to like being at school more than home because there were more people to talk to. Days went by, days turned to weeks, weeks turned in to months and my loneliness wasn’t getting better.  My parents began to worry about me. They wanted to help but I put off their advice because of my new hatred of being at home.
I tried to find new ways of dealing with my loneliness. I began to write a journal of my thoughts and feeling on paper to help cope with the missing parts of my life. It began to help but not very substantially. I still kept up with it. After a while I began to write letters to my brothers. It spiked my interest to see what my brothers are doing in the War. It was a let down from the start because half the time I didn’t get a letter back and when I did they were short and meaningless to me so that wasn’t helping in the slightest.
My journal entries became more effective because I started to like writing. I would start with writing how my morning went and how school was and what I was feeling all throughout the day and it really sparked an interest in writing. I was never a straight A student but my grades never slipped below a C in any class. My writing grade became better and my teacher was impressed with my writing skills. School became a better place for me to release my feelings in my assignments and in class for lessons. But school didn’t help with home life. My routine at home was still the same and wasn’t getting any better. 
Things began to get better as time went on and I grew less and less worried about my brothers. Home life became more enjoyable and my parents didn’t worry about me anymore. But after my school one day I walked into my house and sitting on the couch was both of my brothers. I dropped my stuff and gave both of them a huge hug. They were thrilled to see me and I was happy to see them. Over the first few days they were back I showed them the journal I wrote in and told them about the missing letters. They weren’t very interested in it but it didn’t bother me much.