Go Back

I want to go back, where worries are simple. I just need to do my job and survive. It’s not because I want to serve my country. I’ve done that. It’s not so one of my brothers won’t have to go. No, it’s nothing heroic like that. I want to go back because it hurts to be here. I don’t feel right, I don’t fit in. Sometime I think my family would be better off. You know if I was over there doing my job, doing what I’m good at. Over there I had no worries. Here I wonder what’s going to happen next. I sent home money and my bills were paid. Someone did this for me. Hell I made enough money I could ease my family’s struggles also. I could take care of them. Instead there taking care of me. Over there I just did my job and lived my life without a care. Shit, my girlfriend left me while I was over there but I was too busy to care. That felt good. At home, when I found out my girl was off living her new life with her knew man, it nearly killed me. I can still see the scars. I’m lucky I haven’t gone into one of those drunken downward spirals that you can’t get back up from. I’ve come close though. But not over there. Over there I was something someone needed. I want to go back to get away from home and the people here. I’m not like them. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. It’s almost as though we speak a different language. I want to get away from the type of people who complain because they can’t find the right color purse to match their shoes, or they lost cell phone coverage for an hour or so. They annoy me. I don’t care because my boots will always match my weapon. There are far bigger things to consume my time, like when am I going to have a warm shower, and are they going to drop bombs on our heads again tonight?

I want to go back so I don’t have to think about how crazy I am for wanting to go back. I want to go back so I feel normal.