Weight of failure

I can’t shake the image of the names blinking out.

Every time I look at my wall, I see the list of those we freed taped beside the list of those still missing. And now, I’ve added three more names. Crossed out, not because they’re dead, but because they’re gone. Again.

I tell myself this is war, that losses are inevitable. But when you see dots vanish on a screen, it doesn’t feel like “strategy.” It feels like failure.

Maybe leadership means carrying that weight. The weight of every decision, every loss. The knowledge that for every victory, Maynet will demand payment.

I don’t know how many more names I can cross out before the ink feels like blood.