Death of longing

I was trying to resist everything that was urging me to look back all the way. My heart was bleeding to leave a mark in this place or that, an unhealed wound... And while I was trying to resist this feeling, my mind was constantly replenishing itself with shocking assumptions that might be the price of my hesitation if I listened to them... The raging shells, the blind bullets, the detention centers, the hunger, the cold, the fear, and many more... These terrifying images were much stronger than my feelings, and than something sublime called homeland... I preferred to die longing for it rather than die for it...