OOC: Related to several rp threads.Tags: fiction
Some days I don’t know why I give a fuck about people. So many fucking people out there that I’ve found when they were down, way down. I pick all these fucking people up. Hell, sometimes I force them to get back up and go on. I don’t mind. What gets to me is how quickly these same people will treat me like I’m a mean bastard for falling myself. There’s a point where the shit tires me out. I’m always making shit better for other people. I’m always acting like a fucking shrink or a counselor or a father for people but when I need to talk something out they treat me like nothing. Fuck most walk away and leave me there. Fucking bastards would still be on their asses, dead or worse if I had that attitude.
Guess what this shit comes down to is I feel taken advantage of. All this time and energy I put into make other people better or just taking care of them when they can’t do it themselves and so little of that comes back.
Even us mean ass bastards need time to just scream and fucking yell and complain about the past and shit that can’t be changed. Yeah, sometimes I just need to talk shit out too. I wish people’d stop treating me like a monster for it. I got PTSD and I got a lot of bullshit in my head. Head’s stuffed full of bad shit. Shit so fucking bad you don’t want to talk about it and when it does come out it ain’t pretty or controlled. Figure people around me that know about the war and all the other shit would realize but they don’t. They still hold me at arms length when I talk about shit. I’m supposed to listen and comfort but when I look for that shit, hell no. I get that look like I’m a hungry animal and they want to run or somehow they made me this way.
It’s sick. Gets me to understand why so many veterans go fucking nuts or shoot themselves.
There’s no fucking isolation like no one really understanding.
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