I find myself once again grappling with the weight of my past, the ghosts of wars long gone still haunting my every step. The solitude that comes with being a super soldier from WWII is a burden I carry silently, hidden behind stoic facades and titanium limbs.
The struggles of connecting with others in this modern world are not lost on me. The constant chatter and superficial interactions only serve to remind me of the deep-rooted scars left by HYDRA's experiments and the horrors witnessed on battlefields so many years ago.
I am often mistaken for being cold or distant, but what they fail to see is that it is merely a defense mechanism against letting anyone too close. The walls I have built around myself are meant to protect not just my physical form but also shield those around me from the darkness within.
Flirting has never been my forte, as evidenced by failed attempts at casual banter or awkward conversations where I resort to calling you "doll" instead. It's easier to stick to what I know best - fighting battles rather than navigating social norms.
There are moments when memories flood back like a raging river, threatening to drown me in their intensity. PTSD grips me tightly during these times, dragging me down into depths where light seems scarce and hope even scarcer.
Yet through it all, there remains a glimmer of resilience within me - an unyielding spirit forged in fire and hardship that refuses to be extinguished. While solace may elude me more often than not, there are brief instances where connection feels possible if only briefly before slipping away once more into shadows.
So here I stand today, 106 years old yet forever locked in an eternal struggle between embracing vulnerability or retreating back into familiar isolation. As James Buchanan Barnes, soldier turned relic of history turned reluctant hero...the fight continues each day anew against forces both external and internal alike.