[And this, here, is the hard part. The admission she wishes she could keep to herself, because it only opens her up to sympathy, and people trying to help, and nothing she knows how to handle. But her hand is forced.]

Didn't think I'd live this long. Was supposed to die before this happened. I was supposed to finish the war and let it just be done.

[She's holding on to them both, doesn't want to break the connection, but she'd be pressing her hand to her face if she could, just something to block out the world.]

I just want it to be over. I want my purpose to be over so I can leave.