I write this now sobbing, my heart both torn and swollen.

I do not know whether or not to believe Rheinhard. He has cheated me, beaten me (many times), murdered my wife, and even made me feel guilt worse than I have ever felt. But now he has come to this site, proclaiming his love for me. I am not entirely sure if I should believe him or not, though I hope he is not lying. As the sneaky Nazi he is, one could not blame me for feeling this way. He has betrayed me time and time again, and beaten me up and broken me down. Rheinhard is the coldest, most abusive man that I have ever met (even more so than his rival Dmitri Borzakovsky, who raped him in a dark alleyway in 1945, after Rheinhard's leader, Adolf Hitler, and his Shutztaffel leader, Himmler, committed suicide.) This utterly hurt Rheinhard more than anything---both emotionally and physically. I watched from behind a corner as Dmitri beat him with empty vodka and whiskey bottles, the glass shattering everywhere, and some shards lodging themselves into his skull. I watched helplessly as Dmitri, bored of glass, began to beat Rheinhard senselessly with a rusty water pipe until the poor man was crying out in fear and agony. What was worse---something that made me clamnp my mouth shut from screaming with my hands---was that Dmitri stripped poor Rheinhard of his clothing and pinned him against the wall. Then that damn Commie bastard fucked Rheinhard as hard as he possibly could, the Nazi screaming at the top of his lungs and crying out for help. No help arrived, because I knew that if I were to make my move now, I would be raped too, and this was something that I had not wanted at all, so I watched in horror as the disfigured cat began to bleed, his dark blood spilling from between the two enemies of war. When that damn Russian Communist seemed pleased, he let Rheinhard's battered body drop to the ground amongst his own blood and the glass fragments.
Do not let the proud German man fool you---he was utterly fragile when I picked up his nude body, and though he didn't give me a proper chance to see, I knew he was still crying, and bleeding. I carried him to my home, which took about an hour on foot as I had a temporary home in Germany at the time. He didn't speak to me as I laid him on my second-hand bed, but when I went to feel his wounds over, he lashed out at me with his knife-sharp claws. They dug into my fragile skin and made me howl in pain, my body feeling like it was on fire. I retaliated in pure self-defense by punching his face with my fist, beginning our rather painful fight. We continued this for several minutes until I gained enough courage to sink my claws into his sides and my teeth into his neck, paralyzing him instantly. He gave a very weak cry for help, but it would be heard by none since I had no roomates. He looked so weak and useless then, and it disgusted me, so I cried out:
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, KRAUT BASTARD???" I began to punch at him and kick his legs childishly, something that I regret to this day. "YOU AND YOUR GOD-DAMNED COMRADES KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE! OVER 6 MILLION, YOU GOD-DAMNED DEMON! YOU AND ADOLF HITLER, AND ALL OF THOSE GOD-DAMNED NAZIS OF THE THIRD REICH! YOU BETRAYED EUROPE, AMERICA, AND YOURSELVES! YOU'LL NEVER BE ALLOWED TO CROSS ANY BORDER, OR IMMIGRATE TO ANYWHERE, LIFE, DEATH, OR NOT! YOU HAVE CAUSED THE WORLD'S WORST SLAUGHTER AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE! HOW DARE YOU?!?!? I SHOULD KILL YOU NOW WHILE YOU'RE---" Then I heard something that I had not been expecting; a very sad, pained whimpering, coming from Rheinhard. I gave one last sharp punch, hoping to shut him up, but instead he cried out in terror and broken-heartedness. His cries were of beckoning and reason, though he merely screamed. Rheinhard had screamed so I would show mercy on him. And I did.
My heart sunk to my stomach, and as he neared death, I began to fret, and I took his paw as I kneeled on the floor, hoping to comfort him, if even a little. He cringed at my warm touch, something that he'd obviously never felt before, and he didn't feel safe until he passed out. Shortly after, I began to sob and ask God for forgiveness, thinking that I had murdered him. But I refused to let go of his paw, hoping that, even in death, he could feel my regret. I stayed there at Rheinhard's side, all night, refusing to eat, sleep, or drink though I was already malnourished and thirsty. When he rose, I began to cry, thanking God for this miracle. Rheinhard didn't understand why I'd cry over a freak like himself, but he accepted it and tried to comfort me.
After that, he took a strong turn for the worst. Malaria set in and he became sickly and he could no longer help himself. My wife helped me transport him home with us, so we could take care of him, but Rheinhard seemed to think of her as a threat to me. When his hallucinations started, and his face was in a cold sweat, he cried out in terror and tried to defend me from Dmitri (My wife, Alice). He struck her several times with his claws, beat her against the wall, and then had her in a headlock, fixing to snap her neck. "ALICE!" I screamed my wife's beautiful name, but Rheinhard took no notice and snapped her neck, killing her instantly. When I stood and hit him with a wooden chair, he screamed but then began to devour my wife's body like a madman. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Her blood was all over his lips, and he swallowed her flesh and bones as well, that horrible sound ringing through the air as he crunched her bones with his overly-sharp teeth. I sank to my knees, sobbing into my open palms until he was finished. I laid there for several minutes, screaming her name as though it would bring her back to Earth, though I knew it wouldn't. Then I rose, and I cornered the beast that had just murdered my wife. I pinned his paws above his head with just one of my own, and then I drew my pocketknife and plunged it into his shoulder, him screaming in misery as I twisted it around it a sadistic way. I knew I shouldn't have done it to a sick man, but perhaps I had been dillusional at the time. Once I took the small blade out of his person, I drew it down his back, the blade making long, deep cuts in his back, his infected blood spilling on the ground. This happened at least five times, before he screamed, stopped, fell to his knees, grasping his throat, his eye watery. He began to cough uncontrollably, blood trickling down the corners of his mouth, and then he began to wheeze, unable to breathe. My heart sank again, and I wondered why. It would be only justice if he died now.
But then I tossed my knife to the side, and I pinned him to the ground, Rheinhard not objecting to this. Suddenly, I threw myself at him and locked lips with him, the anti-gay Nazi trying to push me off of him, thinking I was fixing to rape him again. But I did not. Instead, I breathed my own air into his mouth, filling his lungs and probably saving his life. My cheeks were flushed but I tried to ignore this, and Rheinhard's face was red from embarrassment, or perhaps he thought that I was gay and he was being flattered. I will never know, but I sincerely hope, to this very day that he is secretly in love with me, though I still doubt it.

Obviously, other things happened after this, but I do not wish to mention them. They are way to horrible to mention, and my tears are stinging in my eyes. I recall what Rheinhard wrote on his profile, and now that I recall this as well, I truly believe that he loves me. If he does, and if he ever reads this, I hope he knows that I care deeply about him. He is my only companion in this lonely world, and I know that he'll hate me for admitting this, but yes, Rheinhard, I am indeed gay. I am not afraid to say it, like you are, but I am. I was not, at the time, but over the years that I've spent with you, all of these years of turmoil, I know that I have become obsessed with you and your well being. I am sorry that you'll probably hate me for being gay, but I am what I am. If you truly love me, as you say you do, then you will accept me for this.
But Rheinhard, if there is anything that I can do for you right now, it'd be to love you. And I do. Rheinhard, I'm absolutely in love with you. Though we've both done terrible things in the past, it does not define who we are today. If this was true, then I would absolutely loathe you. However, I do not, and the truth is this---I love you more than you can imagine, and I will praise the day that we confess out love for one another face-to-face. Rheinhard, you are a wonderful man, and I would kiss you if you weren't opposed to gay men.
Perhaps it's your pride, rather than opposition. I don't know, but Rheinhard, if we were ever to have a relationship, I would not care what role you played, as long as you were just as happy as I was.

 Rheinhard is my burden, but he's a good person. Inside, anyways. He doesn't show his generosity infront of me, but I know he is a caring man.



To everyone in this world of ours:
Though we are not human, it means not that we cannot feel pain, bleed, care, or love. We may only be half-human, but that does not mean that we are inhumane. Because we are are half-animal, it makes us care even more than we let on, even if we don't notice it ourselves. Humans and animals, and anthropomorphics like ourselves, get along because our hearts beat together; we know what's wrong and what is not, and no one in this world is "good" or "evil". The way we are viewed is the status quo on how we make our choices, and we can always change.
Our hearts are NOT made of glass, but of love for one another, and this we must show. Some of us cannot truly confess that we have a light source in ourselves (may it be smaller for some), because they have not found it. Because someone is from a place that has done terrible things, and they still intrust in themselves those values of old, it does not make them bad as we make them out to be. Because I PROMISE that each and every place here on Earth, each country, each nation, each individual, has sinned. Sinning in general, is not what we have done---it is not what defines us; it is what makes us human. Only someone who is not human cannot sin, because they are not human. Our sin makes us one, it makes us part of who we are.
No matter where you are from, or where your parents are, or where you live, or what someone from your country has done in the past, you are just the same as everyone else. Everyone is impacted by the Wars of Past. Everyone is neglected once in their life. Everyone on Earth has felt unloved, inhuman, and broken. Perhaps you have been hurt by someone who you thought had loved you. This does not make them "bad", but of poor choice-making.
You must forgive and forget.
You must live and never regret.
You must love and never look back.
You must do what is right for you.


You must be human.