I was a dangerous sociopath when the Army released me. They had trained me to be a rabid dog and suddenly released my leash and thrust me onto society, fully responsible for my actions, with no deprogramming...and then I started doing meth, but this post is not about me or the things I did then, but rather a glimpse of that lifestyle and the insanity contained therein that seems normal at the time. I almost immediately upon release began a tumultuous relationship with a very beautiful woman, who actually introduced me to the many splendors (and horrors) of speed, but we were both very volatile and our fling was short lived, but we to this day are very important to each other and so she shall remain anonymous in this diatribe. We always stayed friends through the years. Close friends. I care more for her than any blood relative I have. She's part of my "family of choice" and those who understand that concept have been through some traumatic shit in their lives. If you had to find one, you're a survivor and I salute you.
Shortly after we broke up, she began a relationship with a little skinny fucker and they very frequently beat the shit out of each other. I want to be entirely honest here. She is a phenomenal fighter. She fought like a man and sometimes beat the shit out of men, or boys like the one she had hooked up with. Sometimes she won. Sometimes he won. It was really a matter of level of intoxication and drive.
She called one day and asked me to come over and bring beer. Upon retrospect I was in love with her, but emotionally stunted enough to not understand that. This is decades ago. I love her like the sister I always wanted now. So, I brought my girlfriend at the time, bought some beer and went over...but she and her boyfriend had been up for days and started violently arguing shortly after our arrival and began to fight. At first, she was on top of him, whipping his ass, but soon he was on top of her, raining down blows. I was a big bodybuilder type at that point in my life and fuck that guy. I picked him up, off from her and grabbed him by his neck and hoisted him up on the wall. It really seemed like the appropriate thing to do, but then she sprang to her feet, and punched me right in the eye, so I threw him at her, she went down, and he began to beat her again. Cindy and I left. I miss you Cindy, wherever you are.
A few days passed and they slept for those few days and she called and apologized and asked for my company, and I went over. Like I said, I loved her, plus I had left my beer there. Upon my arrival, she brought my one of my beers and we both sat down on the couch and she started working on a puzzle (to this day she loves them) and I noticed that the drywall had a perfect indentation of someone who had been thrown into it. There was clearly a head and a torso, plus two arms flailing and two legs going haywire. It was a note to self moment. I've always assumed that was a result of her being thrown into the drywall, but on retrospect, I realize they were the same size, and she was the better fighter. Either way, someone had made a perfect methamphetamine silhouette.