I usually slept alright…I had day terrors, not at night. Anxiety, depression, suicide. Homicide even. Failure of reintegration. We certainly spent the money on bombs and drones, never spent any on the transition—counseling, therapy—there was no place prepared for us. We were all left high and dry. And they had the audacity to wonder why we snapped. It was all pretty fucked up. No one came to my rescue. No one defended me in my hour of need. I have no hope for the human condition. We are all so miserable, at least I am. I was never asked what I wanted, what my hopes and dreams were. I honestly just wanted to go die, so it didn’t really matter, but it was the principle that perturbed me. I was a minister of wrath, responding to the needs of a god that wasn’t mine and a country I couldn’t trust. The seed I sowed was bloody and vile. So, how was I supposed to know what I wanted? It was never relevant prior. Just point and shoot. Eleven-Bang-Bang.