Taking Back Sunday

In Combat there's a point that hits everyone, where day after day, the bullets, the screaming, the crying, the monotony, the intense drain on your endurance, your psyche, and your general sense of being leave you at a point where you just want to sit and sleep. To just drop it all walk away. Everyone gets this way. At least everyone I served with. But, at the end of the day, you have to reasses, wipe the dirt of your gear and yourself, get up and fight. Rage against the next day and everything you know will come with it and what you don't know might hop along for the ride. Life is a lot like that. You get knocked down. You just want to lie down and sleep. Let the kicks keep coming as long as you get a little rest. But eventually, you open your eyes and realize that if you don't fight, nothing is worth it. You have to fight for it. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly all come around anyways, so you might as well fight. That was todays' major thought. That and percocet make me sleepy. And my bed sucks. So, I'm gonna fight it.

Toy Soldier Revisited.

Once upon a time there was a little toy soldier. And as time passed and he grew, more and more people played with him. Some played too roughly and broke pieces big and small. Others held him too tightly, bending him and leaving fingerprints all over his shiny paint. Eventually he was big Toy Soldier and off he went into the big Toy Soldier world.

The Broken Toy Soldier met the loveliest Doll in the Big Toy Soldier World, and she saw that he was broken in places, and mad about being broken, but had accepted it as is the lot of Toy Soldiers. And she tried to fix him. And his little tin heart beat and beat, because no one had tried to fix him before. They would tell him where and how to stand, who to shoot, when to talk and not talk, but never took the time to add a little paint and a lot of love to his broken tin body.

And somewhere, in his little tin heart, it frightened him. He didn't remember how to not be broken and so he pushed back, breaking himself, and bringing his war out for everyone to see. Especially the Doll who tried so hard to fix his little tin heart, that had only ever beat for her.

But, some breaks and bends are too hard to fix, if a Toy Soldier struggles. And then she was gone. And he sat around his empty shelve and wondered. Why would she leave? It never occurred to him that his war was an ugly thing, that came from his little tarnished tin heart. And he broke himself further in a little Toy Soldier Rage.

Time passed as it does for toys. The years spreading out further and further. The dust settling in and the Toy Soldier realized that after all this time, he hadn't been played with and no one who would would ever care about picking up his pieces once they were done. And so he walked and walked, looking for his Doll. Carrying his little Toy Pieces and hoping he could show her and say, "Look! I need you." But the Toy World, much like the Real World, doesn't work that way. And so off to War he went. And it was a dark time. And his little Toy Tarnished Heart grew darker and more full of Toy anger and Despair. And when he came back, many things had happened while he was away and this made his little Toy Heart grow darker yet.

But, he found his Doll again. Off in a faraway land, but willing to help him with the directions for putting himself back together again. And so he tried. And then he'd fail. And then he'd drink from the War Fountain and his war would come boiling out, burning everyone it touched. And so The Toy Soldier again drove away the pure thoughts and the extra attention it takes to repair Toy Soldiers and their little, Dark, Tarnished Hearts. He let his Despair and his Anger beat him, as he always had. This time not out of fear, but out of carelessness. And What no Toy Soldier realizes quick enough is the cost of their wars. And of letting them out. How it won't kill them first, but everything around them. The things they wanted to protect the most. Silly Toy Soldier. Always Broken. Always Hoping. And finally struggling, pushing, destroying everyone around him, until in the end it is one Broken Toy Soldier, with one Dark, Tarnished Heart, rusting. Alone.

Struggle.

He is sitting on a hill. The cold wind is like a slap to the face, but he doesn't mind. He's watching the sun slip below the earth, waiting for the moon. Just like Always. Just like Forever. He stares at the burning orb slipping lazily through the clouded sky. He wonders, "Does the Sun know it's Beauty? Does it know that unless I knew better I'd stare at it until I went blind. Just taking it in. Weeping and and wiping away the pain, unblinking, holding that image in my mind forever as my retinas burned away." He sits and stares, waiting for the Moon. Just like Always. Just like Forever. He knows that the Moon and the Sun are two different bodies... They are the same. Just different parts of a day. Or a night. All the Same.


He sits, holding a bottle. Wondering what the whiskey sour will taste like. If it will taste like relief or defeat. If it will improve his day. Or worsen it. Will it drive the loneliness away? Will it change..just..one..night? When it hits his lips will it taste like a lover's kiss? Or will it taste like ashes in his mouth? He doesn't know. He contemplates the bottle.

He sits in the dark. Thinking. Wondering about where the many roads ahead of him will lead. So many paths, so few real outcomes. All roads lead to Rome they say, but he knows most roads while scenic for a bit all just lead to nowhere. Loops and beltways and freeways and broken asphalt. All going nowhere. Everywhere leads Nowhere he thinks, and when you get there, the passenger seat is always empty. What a ride. He turns on some old country, some old southern rock, and lets himself go to a quiet place. the roads are empty tonight and he has a long way to ride.