I want beer....

I have 50 dollars in my wallet, a life time membership to the V.F.W., and a picture of someone else’s kid. I also keep an old drivers licenses in there to remember what I was like before the Army, and the war. Back then I had long hair, facial hair, and wasn’t kept. I was smart, but never made the right moves. Smoking weed, and waxing politics and current event issues; I never thought I would get swept up into it all. I now have this feeling, a feeling like dread every day. On days like this it’s hard to ignore, but most of the time it isn’t noticeable at all. I have thrown so much away for so little. Mostly love. I constantly think about this, I’m afraid. 6 years ago, I would have still accounted for all of this as teen angst. Today, most would say its Post traumatic stress. I feel like it’s a cold war in my head. Good verses evil, plots within plots. It’s a real Alice in Wonderland up there. So, like the junkies and the alcoholics, its one day at a time, one night at a time. I can still get it up, but I can’t screw. It’s only when I rub one out that I can get off. I have forgotten so much, and I can only think about a few moments in my life. An obsession that grips me; as if saying “one man can change the world, but you would change it back.” I think it all means that I’m still here. That if I changed things, it wouldn’t be real any more. You want to know what the real kicker is. Its that I’m actually happy with a sprinkle of anxiety. I really do think I would change things back if someone set things right. I only wish I could say I was sorry to the girl that was waiting for me when I got back from the war.