"We don't know them all, but we owe them all."

Dear American Soldier,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this is the generation you have to fight for. I'm sorry this is the generation you are risking your life for. You don't deserve this. Not everyone sees what you do. But I want you to know that I do.

I'm sorry we pull out our cell phones and film with smirks on our faces as we let each other rip to shreds, dirty up, and stomp on that material of red, white, and blue, that you've taken a bullet to the chest to protect.

I'm sorry I get annoyed at my brothers and sisters and argue with my mom and dad. Sometimes I forget you have a family too. Sometimes I forget you may not ever see them again; and that's because of me.

I'm sorry you have to fight for a generation that has more concern for how many likes they get on social media than for what's going on in the real world. I'm sorry that as you hide behind sandbags and building fragments we hide behind the screens of our iPhones as we slander each others names on anonymous sites like yik yak and confessions.

I'm sorry that we post pictures in bikinis wearing the american flag over our shoulders like it's a piece of clothing. You wore it too, only it was different. Yours was slid across the surface of the box you laid in as your mother crumbled into your fathers arms, choking back tears; as your brother squeezed your little sisters hand; as your wife bit her lip, trying to stay strong for your children.

I'm sorry that on April 13th of this year someone destroyed the monument built in your honor in Gainesville, Florida. I'm sorry that they thought it was okay to break it to pieces while you disabled a bomb that would have blown your whole platoon into fragments.

I'm sorry that two years ago on January 25th, a boy my age made a video of himself burning a WWII Purple Heart because he was bored. I know you weren't bored when you held the hand of your best friend, telling him jokes to help silence his screams as the medics treated the burns that racked his body from the explosion he got caught in.

If I could give you a different generation to fight for, I would do it in an instant. But know that on the days that I wake up fully rested, I'm grateful to you for the nights you barely got an hours worth of sleep. Know that when I see an American Flag blowing in the wind, I know it is because of the last breath of every soldier who died protecting it. And when I hear our national anthem, I'll know that it is the silence of the dead that sing it.

I know there are days you look at this generation and question why you choose to lay your life on the line for someone so ungrateful. I promise you that we aren't all like that. I see you, Soldier, and I can't begin to even thank you. I owe you a debt I could never begin to repay, and one I know you would never ask me to.

Sincerely,

The Girl You Chose to Fight for