-Addiction

[More words to picture inspiration]

The war took the best parts of me and left me with crystallized crumbs of guilt and hatred. Hatred for myself. It would raise me up higher than gung-ho paratroopers, ready for action and then drop me like a frightened 18 year old hitting the ground, running from the screaming sounds of everything whizzing by that wanted to kill me. It was the ice savior that kept me from dying and now it is my chain, locking me down to my very abyss of darkness. It left me as the soldier I never wanted to be in the war I never wanted to fight, World War Me. My feet have returned home but I left my mind hunkered down in the jungle, somewhere. I visit it, drenched in panic sweats nightly, but it doesn't recognize me anymore. The man in the mirror looks like the face of what I was sent to kill. And now it slowly kills me. I live in shame and dependency, my morning rations soon to be the night's mess I'm forced to clean up. Would it have been better had they left me there? Left me to face the fate of whatever by whomever saw fit? I would have been spared from my dual roles of both prisoner and executioner, had I stayed. I am ugly so please do not look at me for I can barely look upon myself. I raise the white flag and pray for the day that someone tells me my war is over and it's time to shelf my helmet, never to be worn again. Because my veins burn hotter than the three lucky bullets that almost kept me there. My fourth has not the courage to discharge me from service. My '64 hell came from the treetops and now it comes from within. I am ugly, please do not look at me.

[I enjoy taking an image and writing a story that asks me to create it. I write it the way I see it. I will title this work 'Addiction' based on the composure and darkness of the image. Many soldiers have returned from wars still fighting their battles of substance abuse, a lesser of two evils, I'm sure many felt necessary for their survival. My heart does hurt for them. If you are reading this and can relate to the crouching soldier, please, reach out to someone. Do not fight alone.]