I have pictures of Iraq with some of my friends in them. Some of them did not make it back. Some of them I seen die.. I have images in my head of the insurgents IED's blowing my friends skin and bones apart. I have images of fellow soldiers walking to chowhall & a second later thoes fellow soldiers body parts are all around & on me. You see one alive from the waste up & all you can do is hold his hand. But hey that's war right? Having orders to shoot a father,mother and son, with there hands up. But hey that's war right? Doing route clearence getting hit by a IED, and fragments of your friends skull going into your mouth,clothes, yet still driving a hour back to the fob. Cleaning bodies of whole villages that was cleared out by a bomb. you see limbs of adults and children, and you see survivors covered in blood. You think am I going to be next? But pretty soon your tour is almost up. You think everyone would be alot happier, but the tents and chowhall are alot quieter theses past few days. Then you fly back home, but you flying with quite a bit fewer people. The ride is quite. Then you back at home and you say goodbye to the Army. You go back to your mom or dads place. You really don't have friends anymore. The friends you did have back at home moved on with there lives. Yet you have to continue life. You drive around town to see what has changed over these past few years, But the scenery and roads start to change, you think at any minute you might hit a IED, but you snap back to reality. your sweating, breathing heavy, you start to feel more and more paranoid. You figure theres no point in making friends anymore, they either leave you or die. You start to hear voices of your dead friends, sometimes it's conversations you have had, other times it's there screaming. you hear people speaking Arabic, you cover your ears but the voices are still there. You get more and more depressed. you start to cut yourself, sometimes it's not even when your depressed when you do it. But you cut and see something familiar, it's called blood. one cut wont suffice you go deeper&deeper&deeper. But the cuts heal, the pain is always there. You lay in bed, but everything starts to shift and change, you hear gunshots,explosions you see your friends dying again. you feel so overwhelmed, it feels like your heart is going to explode, and as quick as it began your back in your room. Now all you have in this world is a fucked up life, your mad at the world, your mad at yourself. But this is life, and I'm going through war.