I see it all the same. Nothing has changed now that I’m back. People still fight the same useless battles, they still lust over hollow crap, and I still do as I’m told.
The color pallet hasn’t changed much. The rusty greys of Chicago bring sensory flashbacks of shantytowns and bazaars.
I come home only to realize the sameness of it all. I went into war because I found life too boring. I wanted to do something honorable and memorable. Not because I am a charitable woman but because I have a low self-esteem. Because I was not satisfied with just fitting in.
Now I see that we all fit in no matter what. There is no extraordinary. There is no glory in living, just romanticized idealist.
You never have it figured out. I thought I did. I had everything planned out ahead of me. I had a wife waiting…
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