A lot of things are happening this month. Heading to the shooting range, physical training test, deciding to go airborne, 1 month anniversary of being in korea, almost 19, two years of being on DA, one year in the military. A lot has happened.

I was once an angst-ridden teenager, 16 going on 17 when I found the site, introduced to me by an old classmate in high school. It was senior year, a time of rebellion, necessary growing pains, and intellectual introspection and investigation, as well as a fantastical philosophical journey that made life as colorful as some of the best memories of my childhood. But, before hand, I had spent six years in deep depression, and before then, and all throughout, memories and dreams mixed into upon each other, and I knew not which were which.


Now I find myself as an adult, paying bills, wearing uniforms, half the world away, and doing what I want to, as well as what I am told. I am finding life practical, life useless, but with a fresh prespective slowly dwindling away, I have written less and less to the point of it not being myself anymore, and now I wonder if I ever had a gift with it anyways.

That being said, I am thinking that before I give up writing for good, or at least when it is more convenient, I might as well post back up some works that I have had on when I first posted on the site. Back then I had a passion unrivaled, a hope and love that was genuine, and a perspective that stretched the cosmos. But that combined and side by side with a hatred that tore my soul, and a hate for monotheism that was brash and unbridled.

I hated god. And met others who felt the same to varying degrees.




Now, on a lazy sunday, I look at many things that can be considered to have a major nostalgic value, some things that only certain people of my generation could have ever experienced. I wonder where my life has gone.


With the benefits of the military, I am trying to push for a two year stay in korea. But if I ever go back to the states before then, I don't know how my psyche will hold. I wonder how many "genuine" other people truly know how it feels to not have a memory


How many of you are real?:

I prostitute my body to my government, I do as they say
I have no real memory, but love and hate
are woven into my reality
Who really loves me, and who really hates me?
I push others away
I am aghast at the teenage angst
that riddled my core
and now as an adult
the reality that has set in

The spirit of disillusionment reigns supreme
we were so led astray
With high childlike hopes crushed
and blood-filled chalices given to drink
washing away my sins
forcibly
and regurgitated back

How many of you are like me
younger than me?
Proving to me that the phenomena of my life
is not a unique experience?

How many shaggy-haired teenagers
gave their souls away
How many arm-scarred eye-lined
females have lost their minds?

How many of you will wake up one day



And realize you have grown up?
---------------------------------




And now, being older, I wonder about the legacy I will leave those younger than I, if any? To my unborn children, if I will have any? Or will I wither away as a veteran in a war we have fought, or die in a gutter, no one to care for? It is intresting to note, however, that I am not as worried about where I end up when I die. Now, I'm only concerned with doing my duty and getting paid by my government, doing what they tell me.


My identity doesn't matter, not even to me. I am just a U.S. soldier, and I do as I am told, life is too easy, too fucking easy.