Oak
It's hard to remember the man I was before.
The man before I enlisted.
The man who wasn't a Marine.
The man who never saw battle.
He almost seems like a figment of my imagination.
Everything before doesn't seem real.
And that's the terrifying part. That being at war, lying on the cold ground, entering gun fire and fighting for my life along with my comrades felt like home.
Because when I returned, when I made it out alive, home was no longer home.
It all felt . . .wrong.
And it hasn't felt right since.
Nine years.
It's been nine years since my last tour, and I am still in fight mode.
Someone looks at me the wrong way, someone says something in the wrong tone my first initial reaction in my head is to take them down.
I can make it happen quick. Easy. Painless.
My brain has to work ten times harder to remind myself that I am not overseas. That they are not my enemy. They are not a threat.
Only then after I have repeatedly told myself that I don't have to fight, when my mind is already wired to do so, can I breathe again.
A short breath that burns my lungs with the promise of hope and dreams. As I exhale it all goes away yet the war remains.
It always fucking remains.
No matter how bruised my pride is or how beaten down my mind is I still have to fight.
At this point I feel like I'm blindly throwing punches. Aiming my rifle at the wrong targets. Closing my eyes to find peace but never being able to escape.
Exhausted.
I am so fucking exhausted.
I never thought it was possible to be that tired. To be worn down to the bone. Where even having to think takes energy out of me. My mind constantly races. It takes me back to a time where I don't want to be. It makes me question everything. Then, as if that isn't enough to bear my mind is playing tricks on me.
It will happen out of nowhere. Where one moment I am perfectly fine and then one little thing will happen, and it snaps something inside of me. I'm no longer here in the present. I'm trapped in the past.
Triggers.
There is so many fucking triggers that I have now. As the weeks continue to go by because time shows no mercy they only add up.
I used to tell my triggers to Snake. My club brother whom I am closest to. That man understands me in ways that no one else does because we were one in the same. Men masking their pain the best they knew how. It forged an unbreakable bond betweenus. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for him. I trust him with my life.
The mask Snake wore to cope with his demons has been lifted. He's seen the light or rather found it in his fiancée, Alice. And honestly, I couldn't be happier for him. He deserves someone who accepts and loves all of him. All his flaws and inner demons. And believe me, Snake is a man made of darkness yet somehow, he found someone made of light and she loves him completely. They're perfect for each other. A perfect balance. She makes him a better man. God, she healed him. Saved him from himself.
She lifted the mask.
