Wardlord

I am a Marine Corps veteran with scizoaffective disorder and this is my story. I enlisted into the Marines at age seventeen with the consent of my parents who decided it was better than me living in the low income housing myself and a good friend had moved into. I had been kicked out of the house shortly after my 17th birthday because I was partying too much and had started smoking Newport 100s. I had also been involved in a hit and run and since my vehicle was in my fathers name, he now had a warrant out for his arrest. After paying the fines and clearing his name I was out bouncing from couch to couch. I had been homeschooled the majority of my life but had attended a Christian school in Kansas City, MO named The Daniel Academy. This school was horrible, we didnt learn anything other than how to fake a seizure when being prayed for. We were taught that there were Angels visiting us during praise and worship sessions in the morning time and if the spirit of God moved the staff we didnt have class all day. I had grown up in Mississippi until I was 13 years old when my parents had been layed off within days of each other and we had to move up to Missouri. I do not fully understand or remember why this school was selective but I find it and the Church that sponsored this school if you would like to call it that to be the single most damaging time period in my life over any drug addiction or erratic behavior that was soon to follow. I learned almost everything I knew about how the world works from first hand experience or finding the information my own goddamn self. I was not a believer myself so trying to find friends who hadnt drank the kool aid was very hard to do. I was an outcast and a troubled teeanger with a demonic cloud over my head as the dean of the school said. I would have demons cast out of me damn near every week I was there. Its hard to convince yourself that something is not wrong with you when shit like that kept happening. I fucking hated it and I still carry resentments toward some of the people there. Mostly I have forgiven the kids I went to school with and I am working on healing from that as I move foward in life and now have kiddos of my own. Needless to say I did not want to participate in anything going on at the school and the staff knew it too. They kicked me out when I was in the 10th grade. So a year and a half later I am getting ready to go to bootcamp after being kicked out everywhere I have been. I got my diploma from a local Community college and was starting to patch things up with my family. I had a girlfriend who I thought was going to be there forever and I thought I was hot shit. After arriving at bootcamp I realized that I had most likely made a huge error in going but I wouldnt be able to live with myself if I went home. I hated it for the first month or so and then I started kind of digging the whole idea again. I would imagine myself in far off places doing some hood rat shit with my buddies I had yet to meet while hiking to keep my mind off of how dumb it felt to walk up and down some fucking hill in the dark. I graduated bootcamp and went home on leave. The gap between me and my family closed a little more and I thought things were going good with the lady friend. After leave was over it was back to the basics but this time I was at the school of infantry on Camp Pendleton, California. I hated that shit too for a while. I wanted to go home and I was tired of the shitty food and the shitty hikes and getting up in the middle of the night to watch gear that nobody was going to fucking steal. This was in March 2014. Russia and the Ukraine were getting into a pretty big confrontation and we were gearing up for war with Russia. The shit never happened and my motivation went completely away for a while. I graduated from there and went to my first actual unit. There, it was back to the new basics. I hated that shit too but soon found my little homeboi clique and it wasnt so bad. We did alot of cool training and I was in the helicopter company so I didnt have to hike as much, so things could have been worse. Then I started partying again after being pretty chill in that department for quite a while. I was really starting to fit in with America's finest pieces of shit that She had to offer. I was one of the pack. I started to love it, and I was finally accepted somewhere. I was still a fucking boot and still am for that matter cause I never went to combat and never really got to do my job, but it still felt important at the time and gave me a sense of belonging. Things were going to shit with the ole lady and I didnt give a fuck, I had been using MDMA and going to some 18 and up clubs and raves in San Diego and was feeling like I belonged into two groups. Myself and a few close buddies viewed ourselves as warrior hippies and it was kind of fun to shoot guns all week and then go drug it up from Friday to Sunday morning. We got really into that scene but it was time to deploy. For some dumbass reason I proposed to my lady friend and got on a damn slow boat to China, partied it up in Hong Kong and went to Disneyland over there 50 shades of puke drunk. It was fun and I also had my first experience with a prositiute there. I knew it was a piece of shit move but she was back home fucking anything that moved from gas station clerks to people at church. Fair is fair. I still feel bad but here I am. We went a bunch of places on that deployment including Kenya where I pulled security for then president Barrack Obama, not to name drop or anything. I was on the damn night shift at the airport over there I did not get to meet him but that would have been pretty fucking rad. I got to go to Dubai, Kuwait, and Bahrain twice. After getting back on the boat leaving Dubai my fiance told me she had to decided to pursue her life long dream of becoming a lesbian and that she couldnt pretend anymore. So I wanted to blow my brains out right then and there. I hated her but I needed her for some strange reason that I wasnt able to explain other than now knowing I was a "simp". We pulled into Hawaii on the way home and I got to visit my favorite titty bar in all of the land, Hawaii by Night. Im pretty sure they are still open but I loved the trashiness of the pool table with a pole in it. It was a blast. I had been sober from drugs this whole deployment cause how the fuck am I gunna bring em with me. I was drinking enough to fill the gap so it didn't matter at all. When I got home to Camp Pendleton all my friends went to go raving but my mom had come to see me and we hung out for about a week before I got to go on leave to home. The fam bam had moved back to the Sip and it was pretty cool to be back for more than a couple days since I was 13. My best friend came to visit and I picked her up from The Nola airport and we made a day of that and she stayed for about a week and a half. I bought a truck from my dad with some of that deployment tax free money and drove her back to the aiport and kept on heading west down the I10. I had like four days left to drive about thirty five hours but I decided to drive it in one go because my friends were having a hotel party and going to a rave. So after driving all that with no sleep I arrived in San Diego. This was my first time having full blown psychosis. I drank a bottle of vodka after arriving by myself and nobody thought much of it. They didnt know I didn't sleep and I even drove the car to somebody elses house to pick up more people. Then we went to some warehouse and I completely lost it. I blacked out but have faint pictures in my head of slapping some poor womans ass as hard as I could and then she climbed up on my back punching me so hard that I was fully awake but not aware of why I though I was in Mississippi with all my buddies there and this chick rightfully so beating my head in. I deserved it but I was confused as fuck. We got back to the hotel and I started shit with people I did not know and was getting into stupid arguements about what zip code we were in and I couldn't really comprehend what was going down. Luckily my friend decided to take my drunk, psychosis riddled ass back to the barracks and gave me some of his doritos and let me sleep in his room so I didn't cause any trouble. I am thankful to him for many reasons but this is one of the biggest. People never realize how a small act of sharing your last bag of doritos can affect a sucidal person. I finally went to sleep and was bright eyed and bushy tailed the next day. I went and got some real food and I had hope for the future in almost every aspect. My fingers about to fucking fall off cause I am doing this like I just took some benzedrine or however the fuck you spell that shit Kerouac was taking, but alas I have no such cheat code. So I will do this in episodes or chapters or however you want to think of it. Peace be upon you the good reader if you indeed exist.