Not All Wars Are Fought with Guns

 The air is heavy.

With news. With noise. 

Another war looms, but this time, it’s not just about soldiers on borders. It’s also about us—the ones who sit in our homes, scroll through updates, cry a little, curse a little, and move on.
Or try to.

I feel torn.

One part of me wants to wear a uniform and serve. The other part can barely stick to a routine. I’m not in the Army—but I’m fighting a war too.

A war against helplessness.
A war against my own comfort.
A war against distraction, laziness, and the constant guilt of not doing enough.

They fight with bullets. We fight with daily routines and boredom.

We complain about our workload, our salary, our schedules. They carry around 30 kg of gear through snow and fire.
And yet, we share one thing in common: we fight every day.

They fight to survive.
We fight to stay meaningful.

What kind of patriot am I if I can’t even conquer myself?

I ask this every day.
Is patriotism only about waving a flag? Or is it also about waking up on time, showing up when it’s hard, and staying true to something greater than yourself—even in silence?

Most numb pain with distractions.
We scroll, binge-watch, shop, gossip, debate.
We escape. Because feeling it all is too much.

But what if sitting with that discomfort is also an act of courage?
What if turning inward is a different kind of battlefield?
Where the enemy is not on the outside, but within—the laziness, the numbness, the indifference that creeps in when no one is watching?

Some days, I wonder—maybe patriotism is not about grand gestures, but the tiny, invisible battles no one applauds you for.
Like choosing to put down the phone and pick up a book.
Like listening deeply to a loved one when your mind is begging for escape.
Like doing your job not for a boss, but for your own integrity.

Maybe, showing up fully in your small corner of the world is its own kind of service.
Maybe, self-discipline is its own quiet tribute to those who fight out there in the cold, the deserts, the trenches.

They guard borders.
We can guard our minds.

They stay awake at night, scanning horizons for danger.
We can stay awake to our choices, our words, our responsibilities.

It’s not the same.
But it’s something.

Maybe the greatest dishonor is to live a distracted, disengaged life while others bleed to protect that very life.

Maybe the least we can do... is to not look away.
To not turn numb.
To not waste the freedom they gift us every day.

Even if all we do is sit still for a moment, breathe, feel, and whisper a thank you.

To them.
To ourselves.
To this messy, noisy, aching world that’s still worth showing up for.