Woven intrinsically within me.
We attended a gun show today. (This, after scoring a mere 92% on an exam dealing with vectors and trigonometric functions in regards to conduit fabrication.) I liked the array of firearms there, and there were a few interesting booths. For instance, Tannah purchased a Soviet flag, and a Russian M-44 rifle. The Host registered to vote and purchased a few things...I am not quite certain what. I was not paying attention.
At any rate, I wandered from booth to booth, looking upon the firearms and military-issue kabars, deciding that the wars have had more of a hold on me then I would like to admit. Part of me feels nude in not living my role as Battalion Commander any longer. And yet, I know that to be relieved of those duties is such a consolation.
I decided that perhaps I would, in the future, purchase a handgun. I like the look of a Sig Sauer, for instance. Will our background check allow it? I am not certain.
I feel as if a part of me has passed away. I do not quite know how to explain it; the part of me that was Battalion Commander has vanished. And, in a way, the part of me needed as Guardian Protector has vanished as well. She does not need me as she once did.
I do not know how to feel about that.
And still...
I am flooded with recollections; merely snippets of memory, but profound, nonetheless.
There is a specific moment, frozen in my mind. It is of a type of desperation. Looking back at the situation, I wonder why and how I was able to maintain my sanity.
There was a time, years ago, when I had infiltrated an enemy base. I was cocky then; I thought myself invincible. However, I could not allow my men to fall victim to my foolishness. I made ready their escape, and in the process, alerted the enemy to my presence. I felt fear only fleetingly. Even now, I realize that succumbing to fear does not behoove me.
I recall with clarity huddling in a serviceway, firearm at the ready. I was poised to attack, and even as the adrenaline pulsed through me I trembled. I wonder if I trembled due to anxiety, or due to a sick excitement in secretly wanting to be found. If I had been found, I would be given the opportunity to kill indiscriminately.
Not to say I am proud of this; I loathe what I was then.
However, I feel I was stronger then, as well. I have become soft. Then, despite what I endured, I was fierce and capable; I accepted every challenge and held steadfast to what courage I gleaned from my own rage.
I am not certain my point here. I suppose this falls back to feeling as if a part of me has, indeed, died. I feel shame in that...and in that, I feel weak. Such a cruel cycle.
At any rate, I wandered from booth to booth, looking upon the firearms and military-issue kabars, deciding that the wars have had more of a hold on me then I would like to admit. Part of me feels nude in not living my role as Battalion Commander any longer. And yet, I know that to be relieved of those duties is such a consolation.
I decided that perhaps I would, in the future, purchase a handgun. I like the look of a Sig Sauer, for instance. Will our background check allow it? I am not certain.
I feel as if a part of me has passed away. I do not quite know how to explain it; the part of me that was Battalion Commander has vanished. And, in a way, the part of me needed as Guardian Protector has vanished as well. She does not need me as she once did.
I do not know how to feel about that.
And still...
I am flooded with recollections; merely snippets of memory, but profound, nonetheless.
There is a specific moment, frozen in my mind. It is of a type of desperation. Looking back at the situation, I wonder why and how I was able to maintain my sanity.
There was a time, years ago, when I had infiltrated an enemy base. I was cocky then; I thought myself invincible. However, I could not allow my men to fall victim to my foolishness. I made ready their escape, and in the process, alerted the enemy to my presence. I felt fear only fleetingly. Even now, I realize that succumbing to fear does not behoove me.
I recall with clarity huddling in a serviceway, firearm at the ready. I was poised to attack, and even as the adrenaline pulsed through me I trembled. I wonder if I trembled due to anxiety, or due to a sick excitement in secretly wanting to be found. If I had been found, I would be given the opportunity to kill indiscriminately.
Not to say I am proud of this; I loathe what I was then.
However, I feel I was stronger then, as well. I have become soft. Then, despite what I endured, I was fierce and capable; I accepted every challenge and held steadfast to what courage I gleaned from my own rage.
I am not certain my point here. I suppose this falls back to feeling as if a part of me has, indeed, died. I feel shame in that...and in that, I feel weak. Such a cruel cycle.
posted by Logan Nambiet at
11:29 PM
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