Sunday, August 9, 2009

Sympathy

I've been noticing lately, wherever I go, people tend to look at me like I'm a dead man. I tell them I'm a soldier, and invariably, theres a few moments pause. Their mouths drop open just a tiny bit, and their eyes get soft and it looks like I've just told them that I have terminal brain cancer, or that my puppy died. They they usually pull it together and shake my hand. Some of them react as if I told them that *I* killed a puppy, but those people aren't worth continued conversation.

The thing is, I don't want sympathy. I volunteered to be a solider. I LOVE being a solider. I knew the risk when I signed up-for God's sake, we've been at war since I was in 8th grade-I accept that risk freely. There is no shame, and no need for you to feel sorry for me. So please don't. I want support on the homefront, I want a president who isn't hell bent on apologizing for our actions, who isn't frightened of the men he commands. I want the proper tools to do my job, and I want rules of engagement that dont force me to fight blindfolded, hopping on one leg. Do that, instead of cringing when I tell you that I'm off to war.

I'm not a dead man walking. I'm more likely to get shot as a tourist in the nations capitol than I am in Afghanistan, actually. Is that friggin sad or what?

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