Hell is a place called Earth. And Heaven is made up.

There are days that if said this and I didn’t know my self I would think I was suicidal. I’m not. It’s just that lately I have been obsessed with the thought of putting a bullet in my head. It’s not like something that you just out right think, kind of a in the back of your mind thing. Up until last night when I was fucking this girl I couldn’t think of a reason that I would be constantly thinking about such a thing. Especially since I don’t have any drive to do that kind of a thing. The thought is more of a scenery kind of thing. Like a sun set only dark and twisted. I have the answer. Well I think it’s the answer, and it’s open to discussion. During the invasion and the first year of the war, it was my job to put bullets in the enemy of America. Those that don’t hold the belief that freedom of choice is above all the greatest gift of our known world were killed. We all did the fighting. I don’t think I like to say killing, sounds unpatriotic. After sometime here in the great land of civilians and working as a recruiter, I have realized that I’m not offering choice, or freedom. But the opportunity to serve and uphold that freedom of choice, by giving it up. I’m out to take that away. Well more importantly I hold service to country as an extremely high value. Very few left that do. To many people in America, the recruiter has become the enemy. I think the idea of a bullet in my head is the idea of self hate and realizing that America is week and ignorant. And it will take violence on a large scale, like 9-11 to bring America and more people to the call to duty.

Still trying to figure out why I’m such a dick to women, even the ones I like. I wish I could say it has nothing to do with the broke whore I used to date. I really do hope she’s happy with that fire fighter. But I was a little like this before her.