As time passed,

  Everything in his life stopped being just details,

  Everything became a lens through which he saw war.

  Every moment of his day became a battle,

  Every decision, every confrontation... a piece of a larger strategy.

  To him, the world became nothing but a battlefield.

  He saw himself as a soldier in an ongoing war...

  Even if not on a real front line,

  The battle was inside his mind, with every step he took.

  He started reading everything about wars,

  Old and modern battles,

  Historical military leaders,

  And the deeper he dived into that world,

  The more he felt he found his place within the chaos.

  He became especially interested in fighter jets.

  The more he read about combat aircraft,

  The more he felt the planes resembled him...

  Alone in the sky, not allowed to stop,

  Flying in a vast space, always on a mission, always on high alert.

  He read about aircraft design,

  About the history of warplanes from World War II

  All the way to modern jets.

  To him, each plane had a story that mirrored his own life.

  They were like human souls...

  Each with a frame, with tools—

  But in the end, all of them flew far from the ground,

  Chasing a distant target...

  A goal not always clear.

  Instead of spending time thinking about his emotions or relationships,

  His mind became consumed by military terms,

  Strategies, tactics,

  And the smallest details of every battle humanity had fought.

  Even if he couldn’t change his surroundings,

  He could change his way of thinking.

  He began to see life as an open battle,

  Where everything was governed by preparedness and planning.

  Even when dealing with people,

  He saw them as soldiers in life’s war.

  There were battles for dominance,

  And battles for survival.

  Every word, every action, took on a military meaning.

  Every move someone made around him was like a military maneuver.

  He was convinced he was in a constant war...

  Not a war against people,

  But a war against himself.

  Every day brought new challenges,

  But he was always ready.

  Despite everything,

  He held onto the belief that every battle had an end,

  And in every war... there was always a tactic that could turn things around.

  Amid all of that,

  He developed a kind of solitude he called “combat caution.”

  He didn’t let anyone in easily,

  Didn’t trust anyone easily,

  Because to him, the world was a ruthless war zone.

  In his daily life,

  Every challenge felt like a front line.

  Every situation,

  Whether at work, with friends, or in a simple conversation,

  He analyzed it like studying war tactics.

  Every word he spoke, every step he took,

  Was calculated, as if he were a general in a major campaign.

  He was focused on all the small details,

  Hidden movements between people,

  Unclear glances,

  Anything that might signal a threat or an opportunity.

  Even in his rare relationships,

  There was always caution.

  He couldn’t stop seeing others as either potential enemies or temporary allies.

  He didn’t have the ability to trust easily.

  He saw people as soldiers in his own private army,

  And their connections were fragile alliances...

  With one goal:

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Survival.”

  Over time,

  Every reaction he got from others felt like a reaction in battle.

  If someone tried to get close emotionally,

  He felt it was a sudden attack...

  And at the first chance, he’d retreat and fortify himself again.

  But he knew something clearly:

  He wasn’t alone in this war.

  He knew everyone had their own battle.

  But he didn’t want to join their wars—

  He just wanted to live alone in his own battlefield.

  Even when he tried to get close to someone,

  He felt like he was standing on a minefield...

  Any word, any move, could destroy everything.

  And while he tried to escape the pain,

  These “wars” gave him a feeling of control,

  Even if it was control over a losing battle.

  In the end,

  War became a part of how he thought,

  His eyes searched for threats even if they didn’t exist,

  And his heart was stuck in a state of permanent alert.

  Every moment felt like a state of emergency,

  Every day like a new preparation for combat...

  Even if that battle was just within himself.

  Sometimes he wondered,

  Was he really living in a war?

  Or was the war just inside him?

  But he always knew the answer:

  “The war is real... even if it’s with myself.”

  As the years passed,

  The future stopped being a dream like it was for others.

  He no longer dreamed of a better job,

  A house, a stable family,

  Not even peace of mind.

  His only thought was to survive this daily battle,

  To endure one more day without breaking.

  The ambitions that once lit up his eyes

  Were replaced by smaller goals:

  To survive, to protect himself,

  To make it through another day with minimal losses.

  Everything he planned now

  Was a calculated battle,

  With no room for randomness or luck—

  Only constant planning, preparedness for betrayal,

  For any collapse that might come.

  He was always cautious, even with his dreams.

  If a simple dream crossed his mind,

  Like traveling or living differently,

  His war-trained mind would stop him instantly,

  Reminding him those dreams were weaknesses,

  And in war, weakness meant defeat.

  Even at work,

  He no longer worked to prove himself to others,

  Or to get promoted or praised—

  He worked like a soldier assigned a mission,

  Completing it with little talk, little attachment,

  Then returning to his base—his dark room and long silence.

  The worst part was,

  Even when he tried to build something in his life,

  He always expected it to collapse.

  He believed anything good would eventually fall apart,

  Like war-torn cities turned to dust under bombs.

  As days went on,

  It became harder to find someone like him,

  Someone who understood what it meant to fight every day in silence,

  Someone who knew what it meant to live with no big hope,

  But to keep going because you’ve learned to be a fighter,

  Not a lover, not a dreamer...

  Just a fighter.

  And when he sat thinking alone at night,

  He knew he had lost so much on this journey,

  But he had also gained something no one could take away:

  The power of silence, the power of endurance.

  He knew he wasn’t the strongest person,

  But he was the one who had learned to keep going...

  Even when there was no hope in sight,

  Even when no one was waiting for him at the end of the road.