This is an experiment where I'm trying to see how describing a thought process is written. The title is "Morristown."

I wake up.
I didn't want to.
But I'm a soldier.
So I won't complain.
The rigors of the winter have been successful.
For I have frostbite.
My feet are numb and heavy.
So I rub them 'till they sting.
There are worse things, though.
I won't think of them.
I won't think of seeing my friends die.
I won't think of knowing that they're never coming back.
So I go back to sleep.
Two hours later, I still can't sleep.
I get up.
I see my brother staring at me.
His eyes don't move.
I don't want to live anymore.
God, this wasn't supposed to happen.
He was a good man, a good soldier.
He had a wife and child.
Why?
He was the only family I had left.
Will you leave me with nothing?
It isn't fair.
You took him away.
Now he is never coming back.
Why?
What am I supposed to do now?
His musket has a bayonet.
I could stab myself.
Then I wouldn't be alone.
But that would be selfish.
General Washington needs men anyway.
He can afford to lost someone who has lost his will to live.
No.