I am a war dog, a mutt, a machine built solely for war, trained for combat. It has become all I've known, a dance I mimic in my sleep, steps that lead to misery. Blood and viscous stain my memories, writing my path to darkness, delving deeper. I am the lead, the star of a book not meant for children and rejected by adults for it's horror. I have taken many names, and 'monster' should be one of them. Cigar smoke stings my eye, reminding me of my humanity. The tobacco is bitter, stale much like I have become. Bitter, distant, cold, they all fit, they all define who I am.
Sometimes I can feel her, feel her energy lingering here, in the corners, in my theoretic soul. Memories of her death haunt, innocence and love are a sham, a delusion I refused to indulge. Yet, it's like she's in the room, a spirit, an essence clandestine in the walls, watching me, possibly protecting me. Would she? Every time I think of her I feel nostalgic, but a heavy ache fills my chest, it is distracting, harmful. Would she want this for me? I wonder. Needless thoughts I shouldn't bother with but, they nag, chewing at my nerves, crawling under my skin. It's only human, I reason with another puff.
If people only knew the horrors a person could endure, the ones they were spared from. My mind wanders into thoughts of a normal life, would I adapt? Could it have been different? It's too late now, fate has taken it's course, throwing me deep into the belly of the beast, the beast that turned men into monsters. Monsters that masqueraded as normal people, merging into society seemlessly.
I wonder if it will ever end, or if it will spiral into a dystopian society devoid of all warmth? Already it had become the survival of the fittest, how much more fat could be carved away? Lacing my boots I clench the cigar between my teeth, ignoring the wafting smoke. I always felt that this, this time, the time I took to dress and prepare gave me a brief fleeting moment of clarity. Who knows, maybe I am the fool.
Maybe, I am the problem, or perhaps the solution. Will I ever have the truth, the meaning for all of this? I chuckle at my philosophical thoughts, dismissing them without a care. It's done now and I have work to do, work that must preoccupy my thoughts, and my focus. With my hand on the door I can't help but allow one more thought to linger, to engulf and grapple my mind and rattle my psyche for a moment.
One day, the pretty face you always trusted will turn around and speak to you, and you will realize, too late, you're someone that you never knew.
A/N Alright, I know this is a hot mess but it was meant to be a stream of consciousness for Big Boss, with references to Boss. I just wanted to try to pick his brain a little bit and speculate on what he would think about, so how did it turn out?