22 a Day – A veteran passes away - Carl ToersBijns
The war has been over, the months have passed and here I am crying my tears all over again. I thought I would likely die in combat, the war was so unkind as my friends were dying right beside me, while my guilt to survive was never left behind.
There is no blame to point the finger, the war was my choice as I signed up unconditionally to fight and protect our freedoms. Coming home, I ain’t got a pot to piss in as I lost my everything, including my family, my home and my soul.
Feeling lonely, filled with guilt, I stuffed the white powdery stuff and sniffing till I could no longer stand. My addiction was killing me but the thoughts of dying here and now, were kept at bay by the misery and darkness surrounding me.
I must confess, the trigger finger was itching to find the way to make it end. There was no one there to see me through, there was no way, this feeling of doom would pass so I thought about this murder of myself as I laid there staring at the ceiling and staring at the neatly stacked shells.
I had a Smith & Wesson, a Glock and a Colt AR 15 that I kept there by my side. For my mind was evolving around so quickly, it spun my world so madly, leaving my sanity behind. I felt I had no religion, my hope of surviving had all but gone down the drain. Nobody was there to catch me, nobody was there to share the pain.
I could feel myself a slipping; the head was dizzy with thoughts of going down and end this misery forever. I have sat there in those therapy groups, listening to a group of born again Christians. Hypocrites they were, I saw no gain in their friendship or keep this company of heathens around me. I knew I needed to be alone.
Choking on emotions, I felt the clock on the wall ticking. My life had no ambition, my heart had no more passion or the human desires to stay alive. I felt I was no longer in existence, my spirit was dying and the flames of hell had come alive. The heat was overbearing, I felt hardly alive.
Staring at the black wall in front of me, I wondered if they would miss me if I were gone. I wonder if I would make history and post my face on the TV for the six o’clock news but in reality, my soul felt empty without a care, and the time had come for me to ask the grim reaper to come and get me.
Oh I knew I would not live forever – I knew they had lied when they said they cared and when I cried. Of course, I knew I could not live forever, even inside my heart, a part of me had died. No longer shouting “forever.” No more will the force or beat of my heart feel the sensation of being alive as the blood no longer rushed like it did before when I felt alive.
I cried, I tried, and I can’t deny I wanted to die, when those around me left there all alone forever. My mind was planted with roadside horror and exploding minefields all around. My license plate gave away my story, a veteran riding alone and ready to die.
Coming home, I never sat high in the sun or glory. My mind was filtered with pain and darkness all around. Somehow, somewhere I had lost my mind and fell down on my knees with a broken spine. I watched their backs like they did mine. I took care of them soldiers’ six mighty fine. I thought it would last forever, I thought they would never die. But you better not look back, or step on that crack, or the world would explode and leave you with a broken back.
I am sitting here staring at the trigger, I loaded one round to see if I had the heart to die. I called the cops, I told them the end game was coming. I never committed no crimes but I knew it was time to die.
I knew the cops were coming. I never talked to them as I turned away from them to talk to God. I told Him it was over, I tote my guns and ready to die. I had a .223, a .45 and a 9mm right there by my side. My pain, my shame and my lack of pride, I could no longer hide.
So here I am, joining 21 other soldiers, Marines and veterans, ready to give it all and lay down my soiled and weakened mind. I polished my Glock with a mighty fine shine, I knew the cops were coming and I sat there silently waiting for them to knock on the door.
Never committed no crimes, I waited for the sun to simmer down and bring the shadows on the wall. Sitting there, without a purpose, I day dreamed of the black Hearst that would take me away into the night. Feeling worthless and knowing I can’t survive the time, I knew it was time for me to die. In the distance, I hear the sirens coming. I knew my time had come to die.
A knock on the door, the cops have come in numbers. Weapons drawn they storm through the front door. Even now, strangers make me nervous, who's that peeking in my window with a pistol to my curtains and then suddenly, I found my trigger finger on the Glock and forever let it shine to dim the lights.
There is no blame to point the finger, the war was my choice as I signed up unconditionally to fight and protect our freedoms. Coming home, I ain’t got a pot to piss in as I lost my everything, including my family, my home and my soul.
Feeling lonely, filled with guilt, I stuffed the white powdery stuff and sniffing till I could no longer stand. My addiction was killing me but the thoughts of dying here and now, were kept at bay by the misery and darkness surrounding me.
I must confess, the trigger finger was itching to find the way to make it end. There was no one there to see me through, there was no way, this feeling of doom would pass so I thought about this murder of myself as I laid there staring at the ceiling and staring at the neatly stacked shells.
I had a Smith & Wesson, a Glock and a Colt AR 15 that I kept there by my side. For my mind was evolving around so quickly, it spun my world so madly, leaving my sanity behind. I felt I had no religion, my hope of surviving had all but gone down the drain. Nobody was there to catch me, nobody was there to share the pain.
I could feel myself a slipping; the head was dizzy with thoughts of going down and end this misery forever. I have sat there in those therapy groups, listening to a group of born again Christians. Hypocrites they were, I saw no gain in their friendship or keep this company of heathens around me. I knew I needed to be alone.
Choking on emotions, I felt the clock on the wall ticking. My life had no ambition, my heart had no more passion or the human desires to stay alive. I felt I was no longer in existence, my spirit was dying and the flames of hell had come alive. The heat was overbearing, I felt hardly alive.
Staring at the black wall in front of me, I wondered if they would miss me if I were gone. I wonder if I would make history and post my face on the TV for the six o’clock news but in reality, my soul felt empty without a care, and the time had come for me to ask the grim reaper to come and get me.
Oh I knew I would not live forever – I knew they had lied when they said they cared and when I cried. Of course, I knew I could not live forever, even inside my heart, a part of me had died. No longer shouting “forever.” No more will the force or beat of my heart feel the sensation of being alive as the blood no longer rushed like it did before when I felt alive.
I cried, I tried, and I can’t deny I wanted to die, when those around me left there all alone forever. My mind was planted with roadside horror and exploding minefields all around. My license plate gave away my story, a veteran riding alone and ready to die.
Coming home, I never sat high in the sun or glory. My mind was filtered with pain and darkness all around. Somehow, somewhere I had lost my mind and fell down on my knees with a broken spine. I watched their backs like they did mine. I took care of them soldiers’ six mighty fine. I thought it would last forever, I thought they would never die. But you better not look back, or step on that crack, or the world would explode and leave you with a broken back.
I am sitting here staring at the trigger, I loaded one round to see if I had the heart to die. I called the cops, I told them the end game was coming. I never committed no crimes but I knew it was time to die.
I knew the cops were coming. I never talked to them as I turned away from them to talk to God. I told Him it was over, I tote my guns and ready to die. I had a .223, a .45 and a 9mm right there by my side. My pain, my shame and my lack of pride, I could no longer hide.
So here I am, joining 21 other soldiers, Marines and veterans, ready to give it all and lay down my soiled and weakened mind. I polished my Glock with a mighty fine shine, I knew the cops were coming and I sat there silently waiting for them to knock on the door.
Never committed no crimes, I waited for the sun to simmer down and bring the shadows on the wall. Sitting there, without a purpose, I day dreamed of the black Hearst that would take me away into the night. Feeling worthless and knowing I can’t survive the time, I knew it was time for me to die. In the distance, I hear the sirens coming. I knew my time had come to die.
A knock on the door, the cops have come in numbers. Weapons drawn they storm through the front door. Even now, strangers make me nervous, who's that peeking in my window with a pistol to my curtains and then suddenly, I found my trigger finger on the Glock and forever let it shine to dim the lights.
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