We live in a world that is external in appearance and attitude. Who are you really? Do we even know? Sometimes the best way to found out who we exactly are is when we are knocked down. Barely even on your knees knocked down so hard your face burns and drips of blood, tears start to flood your eyes, and who is there to pick you up? Not God, not your best friend, not even your mom, OK, truthfully they might actually be there visibly telling you everything you want to hear. They might even brush the dirt off, but they don’t heal you. Only you can heal yourself. Life is a learning progress, constant learning. Even I, as I write, continue to learn. I’m not saying that I have all the knowledge and you have to believe the words you are reading but I am saying I’ve been there and I sold that damn t-shirt. I have been slammed on the ground so many times so of which was of my own doing, but the last time was three nasty mean girls. They pinned me to the brick wall with railroad picks, pounding them into my shoulders, hands, neck, back, thighs, and feet. I looked like a big ‘x’ on this wall of hate they built for me. To this day I don’t understand why they where so hurtful to me. When I think of the event that took place it brings but tears to my eyes of how cruel humans can be. This is how the story actually went:
We, as in my unit, were on a mission sent out by headquaters to do some massive training before we head out to Iraq. We sleep in tents that would reach a high of 120 degrees fairenhiet. We ate MRE’s as well as meals to go. We sweat as we showered. We spooned our weapons as we fell asleep at night. We tried to become an unbreakable team of finance soldiers. We were forced to be here. We had nightly meetings to try to bring our problems to light and find the simpliest solutions to fix the compliants. On this paticular nightly meeting, we were all on edge almost hating each breathe the others took. One of our guys suggested that in order to bring union to our ranks we should have a movie night or a cook out. It wasn’t a bad thought plan, but I had to be the difficult one and bat heads with this sweating man that reeked inexpesive cologne. I stated that these get togethers should not be mandator so that thoughs that want to be there will be there in good intentions and not forced to pretend to have fun. Or forced to communicate when they don’t want to. I personally hate being forced into doing anything at all. Don’t force sex on me, don’t force religion on me, don’t force your love on me, don’t force parties on me, and don’t force negative powers on me. My intentions were good, but mind you it was hot outside and our spirits were low from a long day of working and no play. I was then bombarded with crushing tortureous words that flew into my ears and into my heart. Crumbling my heart into a million pieces. No one stood with me, no one helped me, they just keep pounding me into the ground untill they could see my eyes. Only my eyes and when the tears started to flow they continued to crush me, determined to break my free spirit into a chained spirit of zombie girls that look all alike and that talk alike as well. This torture only stopped after my leader came in and saw the river of tears off of my cheeks. I had soaked my shirt into puddles of sorrow. He told every one to stop and that he would think about these comments. We were then dismissed. You would think that the torture would just stop there. That I could go and cry in a bunker with the bees buzzing around me and the ants crawling all over me. I needed time to think. I needed to soak it in and filter the negative powers out.
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i've decided to write about my experiences on my last deployment... why? maybe someday someone will read this and want to publish it... if not... ok... someone will relate... someone has had the same thing happen... they know the tears and laughter all to well... i just need to let it all go... the sorrow...the happiness..
candy
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