A Taken Guardian

I was once a guardian. I lived a, well being a guardian isn't normal now is it. Being a reanimated corpse, pulled up from the depths of hell or snatched out of the heavens isn't "normal" now is it. But for times sake let us assume so. I lived a normal life, patrolling Venus around the Ishtar Sink area fighting for Dead Orbit to reclaim A.I. files and to salvage what was left of the creators of the Exos. I did all of this because, well, a corpse has to have some purpose to fulfill, something to make living a second life worth it. I mean who would want to live thousands of lives over and over again? The pain of death only to be brought back to life to relive the same horrors of war. Why can't the endless cycle of life and death never stop? Why can't I be left to rest in peace. And yet the cycle will drive us all to madness. I mean I used to be "normal", and yet here I sit with the blood of my former allies dripping across the paper, writing. But to whom? Who is left to read this, who is left to see the madness and despair? Why cant it stop why can I feel it, the darkness clawing at my heart. I want nothing, I asked for nothing, I wanted to fade into nothingness. And yet I was found. I was found and filled with the "light" and this "light" exposed everything I wanted to forget. All of my suffering and grief from a life I once knew. I was once a father. My daughter and son meant everything to me after my wife's death. And they took them. Death took them. I watched them bleed out in front of me as I laid pinned under what had brought us all such prosperity. And I cannot forget. Nay they wont let me forget. I am forever stuck like a broken record, stuck between life and death and yet both reject me. How can one stay sane, when none accept you?