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A page from my mental journal.


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Waking up in the morning so routine like. The turning on the lights to turning on the water to get hot. He stares into the mirror and his releftion stares back into at him. A grown man with stubble on his face his cold blue eyes bloodshot from the restless nights of no sleep. The smooth lather of the shaveing cream as he coats a thin layer onto his face the cold feel of the razor as it eliminates the stubble from his scarred up face. He lets out a sharp sigh as he begins to dress to himself ever so neatly taking great care and pride in his uniform. He checks once more in the mirror to make sure everything is perfect looking up and down right to left. The words U.S Army on his left and a name on the right. His day seems unreal as if he is walking though a dream..reality seems to be lost to him. Before he knows it the flag goes off and it is time to go home..home to a empty house. The clouds overhead hung low on this day and a cold autumn rain fell from them. Safe and sound in his own home once more he begins to drift into his own thoughts...but he does not like these thoughts no. Going to shelf in the dining room resting is an old friend of his he knows with this friend he can numb all the pain he feels a but dusty and well aged but it gets the job done. Sitting in his favorite chair he begins to reflect on his self, his lack of motivation..his need to hide away from others hardly ever leaving home for being alone it was..well safe no one to judge him or to yell at him no one at all. Finishing the last sip of drink he drifts off into a slumber...to await another day another day of empty feelings and lack of self confidence another day of being..well just being himself.

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