Monday, March 21, 2011
A Love Letter From Afghanistan
The Dull Empty Life You Live:
You are boring.
Where are you going with your life?
You haven't changed a day since we knew each other, those days when we were young and dumb and in high school, or maybe I knew you from somewhere else.
I look down on you.
Do you know what are you doing?
You party everyday and live your life based upon the status you rake in at these parties: your outfit + the amount of booze you intake = how cool you feel about yourself.
Grow the fuck up. Move on in life. Quit posting gay ass photos of yourself on fucking Facebook, oh look at me at the bonfire, look at me at this kegger, look at me in the back of this party bus... Nobody cares that you are 21 years old, maybe older, maybe younger , that you have no job, or a job so minuscule that you can only afford to buy the clothes you wear to your parties and the beer you bring to them. You dropped out of college or are attending community college and you think you are going places or you delude yourself into believing that same story you tell everyone else about what your "plan" is. Newsflash Einstein get a fucking degree from a university, the only thing CC will get you is a manager job at a Subway, or for you freaks, Whole Foods maybe...
Is this really the life you want to live?
Do you want to be 30 years old and not remember what you did for the past 10 years, still living in the same town you grew up in, just moving to the apt. complex down the street? Sounds like a sad existence to me.
How do you feel when you see all your friends have graduated college or are almost there and have real plans for the long term? What's your long term...planing next year's fourth o' July kegger??!
Do you wake up in the morning and look at yourself in the mirror and think... man I've done something with my life, I've really fucking accomplished something or are you so naive and short sighted that you can't see past the day you are living in? Or behind it for that matter?
I'll come home after being away for a year and not shit has changed, you are the same, exactly how I left you, maybe slightly better or worse, a whole fucking year and you are no different than when I left. Are you serious? And the really sad part is you didn't run into me doing anything of importance, most likely in a fucking bar the night before Thanksgiving, exchanging stupid greetings, asking questions that you don't really wanna know the answer to, because when you ask "how are you?" you don't really want to know what it feels like to see someone you know die, you don't really want to know the consequences of taking a life, you don't actually want to know how it feels to go to hell and back. "HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
Now I'm gone again, in a foreign country, fighting a war you protest - but know nothing about. You don't educate yourself in anyway but take up these self-righteous calls that are "in" at the moment, and you haven't fucking changed, you're still posting dumb shit on Facebook that you probably don't remember because you were sooo drunk, and you're still living at your parent's house or maybe you got a party apt. with some other friends so you never have to face the music, never have to wake up to reality.
It is not that I hate you,
it is that I pity you.
I pity your sad dull empty life.
If you died tomorrow, what would people say about you?
One day we will meet up again and it will be awkward, and there will be long pauses filled with an uncomfortable silence that says more than our words will. We will have nothing in common. Whether you have been there for awhile or have just arrived you will probably be drunk, but I will know you don't drink because "it is cool" anymore, you drink to numb your sadness to forget that in the morning no matter how hungover you are, you will have to punch that ticket and work your sad minimum wage job, not because you want to work, or like what you do, but because you need to eat and pay your bills.
Don't ever complain about how hard your life is.
You don't know hard,
you don't know pain.
So please, when you read this, think this question aloud: could I be this person?
Because, more likely than not, you probably are.
Lance Corporal Cullen J. Barret
March 9th, 2011