Wickedness of War


Sarah Graham, Writer

I was six when my Cheeto-stained fingers touched a gun for the first time. It was just a tap on my dad’s old rifle; I wouldn’t dare pull the trigger even then. I knew they were designed to kill.

That was the day I learned the world could never be perfect.

Water guns became real ones, birthday balloons turned into atomic bombs and my dreams were now nightmares.

Every lesson our loved ones crammed down our throats has gone to waste. We were taught to confront our problems with words, not violence. We were pounded with the thought to “love thy neighbor as thyself.” We were raised to turn the other cheek, not to seek an eye for an eye.

How can we learn to solve our troubles with words when the world hides behind weapons to end arguments? How can we love when we are told to hate those we have never met? How can we turn our heads at the sight of violence when it is plastered on every television screen and video game children play for fun?

It is as if we are constantly searching for something to fight for. Each side craves a taste of victory, not knowing there can never be a winner. It is only loss. Loss of lives, limbs, and sanity, all to satisfy the need for triumph.

It is as if we’ve gone mad. After years and years of constant war, our morals have begun to fade. We justify the act of killing others and ourselves. We cry for the hungry and nag about the debt, only to donate our last dime to the dirty hands of war.

I would be living inside a dream if I said all the people will one day hold hands and sing in harmony, but I cannot help but wish for a world where we do not need guns to feel safe, a world where dropping bombs is not the only way to end an argument, and a world that at least tries to get along.