cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What do you even do with this? I just watched The Hurt Locker. I get the ending. I'm right there. I keep going to these protests looking for the next riot. The only place where anything makes sense to me. Where I know what I have to do and I know what the cost is and I can stand up and do it and I don't give a fuck if I get shot doing it. That's what I can do. I can walk into a situation where other people are running for their lives and I know that I can stand there and do my job and face down death. And yes, I miss that. I miss that moral clarity where I know I'm doing my duty at whatever cost is necessary. This, right now, isn't what I was cut out for. I've been looking for jobs covering war zones but I don't have the language skills. I'm not cut out to live like a normal person. I can't get a normal job anymore. I've been wrapped up in this cloak and dagger shit for too long. I don't feel like I'm welcome in the normal world of regular people. I'm this broken thing that's spent too long in these other worlds and I don't belong here anymore. I size people up pretty quick and can tell whether I'm looking at someone who would have been there on the 12th or if they'd have stayed home. That's probably not a healthy habit, but it's there. I see cowards and those who do their duty and everything breaks out among those two. That's an awkward thing. When I meet someone and shake his hand and think, 'you're a chickenshit coward who didn't show up on the 12th.' There has got to be a place to put someone like me. Something of use that I can do. Some future. Some task. 11:17 p.m. - 2018-05-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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