2/24/2019
When I was ten years old, I wanted to grow up to be a soldier in the army. I always looked up to these American heroes and think that was the greatest thing someone could ever achieve. Being able to travel the world in the defense of the greatest country to exist. This dream came from mostly Call of Duty's and Medal of Honor's, but I wanted to be like those fictional war heroes I played as. The way that they would fearlessly rush into a war zone and be able to take out their enemies with ease. I wanted that courage, that determination to win.
But that was just the dream of a kid who didn't know anything about bravery
When I was fifteen years old, I wanted to grow up to run a marathon. I could already run a lap on the track quicker than everyone else who was doing track and field. I wanted to race in the Boston marathon and be in front as I crossed the finish line. I wanted to be congratulated with a gold medal and be sent to the Olympics. I would think of everyone in their homes, watching me race among the best in the world. I would think of all the love that would have been shown to me when I returned to my hometown. The pride my parents would have, knowing their son was a champion.
But that was just the dream of a kid who didn't know anything about being realistic
When I was eighteen years old, I wanted to grow up to make a difference in the lives of others. I wanted to show someone that they mattered. I wanted to make a kid believe in the dreams of their own. I could just imagine the happiness that I would be able to bring to the lives of others. The smile that would stretch across their faces as they would be filled to the brim with joy. I believed that I could do things to uplift those that were in dire need of a friend. I had a hope to be able to share a burning light inside of me to warm the life of someone else.
But that was just the dream of a kid who didn't know anything about social skills
When I turned twenty-two years old, I felt that I was in the middle of my own firefight. Facing an invisible enemy who knew me too well, I was hopelessly outgunned. This psychological being driving me to cower in fear of disappointing all those in my life, forcing me to take cover when it wasn't attacking, driving me to near madness. This is a war that can't be won. Even if I could force it away for a time, the PTSD will still bring the night terrors and with no reinforcements coming to help, it seems I'm all but doomed.
And that is the harsh reality for a kid who can't overcome himself
When I turned twenty-two years old, I felt as though I was running out of time to make life altering decisions. What will my career be, how will I raise my kids, where do I want to end up. In this marathon of life, I felt unprepared and out of shape. I didn't have the right shoes for the job and my feet were already worn out. The gun shot to start and I fell right on my face. As my lungs reached for any kind of oxygen they could get, I could feel my legs collapsing.
And that is the harsh reality for a kid who can't prepare himself
When I turned twenty-two years old, I didn't know what I wanted to grow up to be. In a world that seems so cold, I could feel that warm fire growing dimmer with each passing day. I started to recognize just how much I need someone to show me that I matter. I needed someone to share their own light with me to help make it through the next week. I knew I was the one in dire need of a friend.
And that is the harsh reality for a kid who can't help himself
And although we all grow up, there is a kid that lives in us still.
But that was just the dream of a kid who didn't know anything about bravery
When I was fifteen years old, I wanted to grow up to run a marathon. I could already run a lap on the track quicker than everyone else who was doing track and field. I wanted to race in the Boston marathon and be in front as I crossed the finish line. I wanted to be congratulated with a gold medal and be sent to the Olympics. I would think of everyone in their homes, watching me race among the best in the world. I would think of all the love that would have been shown to me when I returned to my hometown. The pride my parents would have, knowing their son was a champion.
But that was just the dream of a kid who didn't know anything about being realistic
When I was eighteen years old, I wanted to grow up to make a difference in the lives of others. I wanted to show someone that they mattered. I wanted to make a kid believe in the dreams of their own. I could just imagine the happiness that I would be able to bring to the lives of others. The smile that would stretch across their faces as they would be filled to the brim with joy. I believed that I could do things to uplift those that were in dire need of a friend. I had a hope to be able to share a burning light inside of me to warm the life of someone else.
But that was just the dream of a kid who didn't know anything about social skills
When I turned twenty-two years old, I felt that I was in the middle of my own firefight. Facing an invisible enemy who knew me too well, I was hopelessly outgunned. This psychological being driving me to cower in fear of disappointing all those in my life, forcing me to take cover when it wasn't attacking, driving me to near madness. This is a war that can't be won. Even if I could force it away for a time, the PTSD will still bring the night terrors and with no reinforcements coming to help, it seems I'm all but doomed.
And that is the harsh reality for a kid who can't overcome himself
When I turned twenty-two years old, I felt as though I was running out of time to make life altering decisions. What will my career be, how will I raise my kids, where do I want to end up. In this marathon of life, I felt unprepared and out of shape. I didn't have the right shoes for the job and my feet were already worn out. The gun shot to start and I fell right on my face. As my lungs reached for any kind of oxygen they could get, I could feel my legs collapsing.
And that is the harsh reality for a kid who can't prepare himself
When I turned twenty-two years old, I didn't know what I wanted to grow up to be. In a world that seems so cold, I could feel that warm fire growing dimmer with each passing day. I started to recognize just how much I need someone to show me that I matter. I needed someone to share their own light with me to help make it through the next week. I knew I was the one in dire need of a friend.
And that is the harsh reality for a kid who can't help himself
And although we all grow up, there is a kid that lives in us still.
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