I am 25
I still don’t know who I am in this world. A soldier stuck in the world of expression and freedom, an artist shackled by the constraints of uniformity and following orders. I went to college to find myself and become who I was supposed to be till I’m old and grey. But it wasn’t right, I didn’t become someone devoted to a lifestyle. Instead, I joined the army to feel a part of something greater, something historical, only to be disappointed…I was a perfect fit in either category. lost in both worlds surrounded by friends, aqaintances, loved ones, and yet never have I felt more alone.
It’s not angst or pent up aggression. It’s a sense of being lost and fear of having missed my path. Am I supposed to be a good soldier, someone to follow orders and defend this country by killing those who seek to harm the defenseless, or am I supposed to be a creator, a person who questions who he is as well as the sheer fact that any of this exists.
The world that I find myself in is that of sweat, hot dry heat, and the burning feeling of regret, and anger. Its needed for this job, this lifestyle. One must be aggressive and hard, jagged. dangerous and deranged. I’m being trained to knowingly and effectively kill another human being. Others who think, question and love such as I do. The world is a much more empty painting in this sense. It becomes a back drop to constant exercise, training, drills, pain, anguish. No time to think. To observe. Surrounded by people who thirst with animalistic tendencies for blood. For the fight, the hunt, and the kill. biggots, racists, misogynists, killers, roughnecks. I feel as if I can be one of these many. But I would have to give up a part of who I am as a person, as a human. The years of pain and anger that I have endured has made me calloused and unforgiving to those around me. To take the lives of those who feel the need to bury bombs in the road and take away the lives of fathers, brothers, sons, sisters, mothers, and daughters. To orphan children who have nothing to do with any of this. I think with ease and certainty that I am fully capable of taking another mans life. Crushing his skull in my hands, feeling the bone give way and the sudden squish as shards of what was once a man grind and rake across my hands. I want to cause pain to others so they feel the rage and hate that I have buried within…
However, even with all of this I still feel that I belong on the shores of Montauk NY watching Joel trying to hold on to Clementine…I should be driving on the highway in the grey drizzle listening to Zach Williams and bellowing out notes with that cute girl from long island who’s shown me the world. I have a longing to walk through a world where my contemporaries are all living in their own imaginations and willing to let other in to share a piece of themselves over tea. being able to walk through feet of snow with someone who warms your heart to a frozen out hippie commune, the cold grey taking over, and yet the two of us seeing no end in sight of positive things to come. To make our own happiness and procure our fantasies from the deepest pits of our psyche.
Now I am fighting a constant struggle to balance these two trains of thought. Now Im 26 and journey continues.