In a place where strength consumes the weak, I am one of the strongest. Injuries aside, I know that only a small handful of people pose any actual threat to my existence. I also know that most of those people don't realize it and are, in fact, afraid of me. It's not that I deliberately set out to make anyone fear me, it just ends up that way through my actions. Respect and fear can be a fine line in this type of work and, often, one compliments the other in its own way. I seek respect from the majority but settle for fear in general. It's not the constant, as admiration will sometimes be the impression. Those are the ones who notice the fear in others as well, and laugh with me.
I don't necessarily view myself as someone to be feared, by any means. Though, you won't find me disputing that fear in anyone either. There's something in these painkillers that make me want to push my weight around more than usual. I've taken notice in things that I never cared about before. Is it because I have more time on my hands to do it? I don't know, but what I do know that is that I feel like exploiting it. I wanna know what the rumors are, about me, that cause an obvious uncomfortableness in some people. What have they heard? I know that I'm known for a few different things around here, none of which I would think would strike fear into people on the same side as me. I'm not talking about people from my team or other operators, I'm talking about everyone else. I know why the aid station people feel the way they do, that's a no brainer; they despise my lack of concern for their procedure. I don't typically ask for permission to leave, which tends to piss them off. Anymore, they just tell me to at least let someone know when I'm about to leave. But that's not what I'm getting at. I wanna know why all the other people, some brass included, seem to be almost afraid of me. Not because I care and wanna change it, no. I wanna use it to my advantage as much as possible.
I can't keep my thoughts properly arranged with these drugs in my system, it's next to impossible. It's almost enjoyable. My mind is jumping between thoughts: the way things are here, what I would be doing if I weren't here, sex, violence, driving at unreasonable speeds, and sex. I wonder what it would feel like if someone from the outside were here. How would they cope with how things work? Would they even be able to? Who makes the best burger in Ohio and how does it compare to Le Tub, in south Florida. Who's gonna be the next person I choke unconscious? I wonder if I'll take a fight when I get back, just to do it. I think the more I try to focus, the more my thoughts scatter. This is kinda fun.
There is one thing the drugs do that I don't mind: they make me sleep. They don't really do s**t in the way of killing pain though; they're probably just killing brain cells....fantastic. I don't get how anyone could become addicted to this crap, it's not even a fun buzz. I wonder what kind of injuries I'd need to get the fun drugs, whatever those are. All the hash and opium around here, and I have to eat government knock offs of percocet. Is that irony?
If I take enough to feel sort of drunk, shooting at people feels a lot more video gamish. I'd call that a small bonus, maybe.
So, I started writing this a few days ago but never got the chance to finish. I didn't really go into a lot of detail at the time because I was still in the middle of dealing with it.
We were basically ambushed from two different directions. I use the word ambush because the enemy managed to get as close as they did, without being detected. Our intel was focused on outer lying areas, not our own backyard. The people whose job was to watch our back failed to do just that, and quite a few people died as a result. None of us were prepared for what happened. They even used our three B's tactic: boom before bang. They initiated with a barrage of mortar rounds that rivaled something with our signature, then came at us in controlled waves. This was one of their best coordinated attempts, in my opinion, and they were pretty successful. We're hearing reports that upwards of 80 of them came at us, and that's exactly how it feels. There's only a couple of us that managed to get through this without any injury, aside from the ones I already had. Physically speaking, I guess. It's taken quite the toll on everybody mentally though. I'm pretty sure a few guys are gonna get transferred due to psychological instabilities. I can think of at least three that I know of.
Even still, I haven't really had a lot of time to get the rest my mind and body desperately needs. I've barely had time to even eat. I haven't showered since the day everything started but I've managed to make sure I changed my socks and brush my teeth. My clothes are blood stained, my skin feels gritty, and my body aches. The amount of adrenaline and testosterone my body has produced in the last few days has created an interesting effect: the swelling and bruising from my various injuries is next to nonexistent now, only the pain remains. I stopped taking the meds a couple days ago because I wanted my head to be clear, not that seeing bodies perforated in front of me wasn't sobering enough. The testosterone coursing wildly through my veins is causing me to feel agitated with any semblance of weakness I encounter, almost to the point that feel like punching some of the people. The rage inside of me makes me feel stronger, like I could walk through people or bullets. I feel more like a caged animal than a man. I can almost taste the pain that I can't wait to inflict, which is only a matter of time away from happening.
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