Jamie didn't want me to go in the Army, but it wasn't like she was doing a lot to keep me here. She spent half her money on beer anyway. When I left for Afghanistan I told her I'd come back to her, but even then I didn't mean it. And I'd probably stopped thinking of her within a week of being out there.
The first week my unit had two IEDs to deal with. I didn't realize they were that common. Maybe I'm stupid but I didn't think we'd be over there if it was that dangerous. Just that it would be the Rangers or something, not regular troops. If it was that bad. I was just getting used to things a little when the explosion went off that day under our truck. The next thing I remember was the hospital in Germany, and then all those days my mom visited at Walter Reed.
The thing about traumatic brain injury is that you're not yourself anymore. Not that you're in a bad mood; that you're literally not the same person. Like you're this stranger with a different personality, different likes and dislikes. A stranger to your family and to yourself. There was a lot that I hated about what happened to me and a lot that I cursed out God for and even cried about, some things that were really bad, but this was just strange. I don't know if I'm supposed to be upset about it or not.
Today they had a party for me and I felt like I was at a party with strangers. But what do you do when you're at a party and you don't know anyone there? Just party even harder, right? I thought I was going to be one person at twenty-four, and instead I'm another person. Still trying to figure out what to do with that.
(Googled "I guess I'll just begin again" and went off this picture.)
