04-11-06 - 08:17
"But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
But I guess some people wear combat boots. And I just happen to have size ten's. I got promoted. I should be happy, but I just can't bring myself to care. They gave me the job because I can be an asshole when I need to. Plus the army called and asked me to come back. As a medic and a staff sergeant. It’s bullshit. They want me back because I have the most experience in recon. I would be an acting team leader on one of the combat teams. I told them I would think about it. All I know right now is that this day to day shit is eating me up inside. Assholes, they knew I would never be part of the real world. They knew the day I walked out on them. They offer me everything but there first born. Knowing that I long for nothing more than the warm embrace of hostile fire.
How can I truly blame them, it is part of who I am. When you speak tome you don't see me thinking back to a time I spent wrapped around a 50 cal in the sand for a week hoping to see my target so I could go back to base. Or running down the streets of Iraq with nothing but a weapon and a flexible conscience. I don’t want to think about this.
Fuck it, one more one night stand will ease my mind long enough to get to the next day. Open the wound and add some whiskey. Let the burn numb you. Take on the pain of others so you won’t feel your own. I come off as caring, but I am truly selfish. Just some emotional vampire.
