Eat Letters, Shit Words

I wrote this awhile ago. Figured I'd put it on here. What exactly happens when you die? Your body rots in a pit, or your ashes sit in a cabinet... But is there more that's not related to your physical being? I'll go into the "Where do you go?" question later, but first I'm focusing on how I know there IS something after you die. Sorry if it makes no sense. I'm horrible at explaining things that make sense to me, and often enough the things DO make sense to me make sense to no one else... I am absolutely, 100% certain that there is life after death. We can picture things within our mind. Without using our eyes we "see" memories. We can create pictures, feel past emotions, and re-create past senses (touch, sight, sound, etc.), all within in our mind, as though it's our own personal movie, as we experience it.  Even without actually controlling it, these things run through our heads.  What do you think happens to that when w...

So, for the past six months or so, my sleep schedule has gone from one extreme to another, in little phases here and there. For awhile I couldn't sleep unless I were, drunk then I just couldn't stay awake unless I were drunk, and it's flipflopped a few times. Obvious solution? Drink, since alcohol seems to control my sleeping patterns. So I did that for awhile. However, drinking caused problems. Not so much mine as other peoples'. First it was family, telling me that I drink too much, followed by friends. Well, some of my friends. Plenty of them are alcoholics, too. But, after awhile I decided that maybe being perma-drunk wasn't such a good idea..as if. No, work actually got in the way. Wasn't allowed to drink for about a month and a half for GRF (Global Reaction Force). We were basically on call to show up to work, fully mission capable within two hours of a phone call at any given time. So that meant no drinking. For the most part I stuck to that, except for...

They say you never forget your first firefight, and that's extremely true. Mine was more than memorable. It was in early March, 2012 in RC-South, Afghanistan. Beautiful day, considering what a shithole we were in. It was pretty early in the morning, and we were going out on a  foot patrol to the South of our FOB (Forward operating base) to talk to one of the villagers, who was suspected of being a key player in the local Taliban group, who lived in what was referred to as Boss House. This also happened to be my very first mission. Well, movement down there was slow, about 800m through an open field, but we had to follow some engineers with a minesweeper because of the extremely high IED (improvised explosive device) threat. Basically walking ducks in a row through an open area like that was pretty stupid, but we had vehicles just off from our formation as overwatch and support. Well, when got to the house the old man was already sitting outside the front door waiting to speak w...