The Soldier Next Door

There are two circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you’re wrong and you can’t face it; the other is when you’re right, and nobody else can face it.

Am I right for what I have done? Well, in that sick twisted way that is not about losing everything, I feel that I can justify my actions.

But does this not just make me insane? See, we all have three different people living inside of us every day…who you were…who you are…and whom you will become. And right not, my road to whom I will become is riddled with insanity.

Only but a day before, I was living the perfect life, but it seems to be right with what they say. Whenever the world throws rose petals at you, you should beware for that cosmic banana peel will suddenly appear under your foot, and you will fall on your ass.

Now, Brendan has had one single request, and as it flowed from Ana’s mouth, I could not help but burst out in a fit of laughter.

Ya, the man wants an apology.

So as we are all standing outside celebrating my victory for a short-lived freedom, Ray but only shakes his head, “Come on, stick that fucking ego in your sock and get yourself out of this mess.”

I only but growl at his mere suggestion, “What kind of Marine will it make me to go grobble? I am not going to go beg for my life?”

“Well,” Ana steps in front of me with arms crossed over her belly, “You will rather lose everything because your fucking ego tells you not to give in?”

“Boo, I am not losing the respect of my platoon because I ran to a man with my tail between my legs.”

“Oh,” she snaps with a voice that is showing more irritation than before, “So you will rather lose their respect for going to jail?”

“Boo, it is not like that…”

Ray immediately interrupts as his voice echoing above the buzzle on the street, “You are being goddamn ridiculous. All you need to do is go say sorry for something that you did, in fact, fucking did. Now is that so hard.”

“Well,” I only but chuckle at him, “I might perhaps punch him then.”

“Ethan,” I listen as Ana’s voice comes through stern, “You can forget about the Raiders if you want to act like a child.”

“But boo…”‘

“Do not but me, Ethan. We are all going to that Hospital, and you will apologize for shooting a man.”

I still try my best to protest, yet she wants to hear none of it. Guess, either way; I am still losing my wife and my career if I do not do as she says. So guess that ego is getting a sock, and we are going to say sorry to a goddamn asshole.

Isn’t it funny how we make rational excuses for being out of line?

We say, “Well, this…and that…happened, so it makes perfect sense for me to be feeling like this…and wanting to do this…”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Yet, to this day, I have never met a happy person who adheres to those excuses. In fact, each time I – or anyone else – decide to give in to “rational excuses” that justify feeling bad – it’s interesting that only further suffering is the result.

There is never a good enough reason for us to be out of line. It’s like beating a dead horse. Been there, done that… so why do we keep repeating it?

Pain is going to happen; it’s inevitable in this human experience, yet it is often so brief. When we make those excuses, what happens is: we pick up that pain and begin to carry it with us into the next day… and the next day… into next week… maybe next month… and some of us even carry it for years or to our graves!

Forgive, let it go! It is not worth it! It is never worth it. There is never a good enough reason for us to pick up that pain and carry it with us. There is never a good enough reason for us to be out of line. Unforgiveness hurts you; it hurts others, so why even go there? Why even promote pain? Why say painful things to yourself or others? Why think pain? Just let it go!

Whenever I look back on painful things or feel pain today, I know it is my EGO that drives me to “go there.” The EGO likes to have the last word; it likes to feel superior; it likes to make others feel less than me in hopes that it will make itself feel better about my insecurities.

Maybe if I hurt them enough, they will feel the pain I felt over what they did to me. It’s only fair! It’s never my fault; it’s always someone else’s. There is a twisted sense of pleasure I get from feeling this way, and my EGO eats it right up. Yet! With an awareness that continues to grow and expand each day, I choose not to feed my EGO or even go there. I still feel it at times, of course, so I simply acknowledge it and then release it.

I have power and choice over my speech and actions. I do not need to ever “go there” again. It’s my choice; it’s your choice. So it’s about damn time we start realizing this. We are not victims of our impulses or emotions; we have the power to control them, and so it’s time to stop acting like we don’t. It’s time to relinquish the excuses.

It is time for me; as we have now pulled into the parking of the Hospital, the time for me has come to walk up to Brendan and hopefully not punch the man. Yet, by the look on Ray and Ana’s faces, I might be the one that will get punched.

So pushing my ego aside, I make the long walk down the corridor that shall lead me to his room. And can I tell you, the closer I get, the stares get worse? It seems that things do travel quite fast around here. Guess it is not every day that the man with his half a leg goes into a man’s house and shoots him.

This does beg my question, what is the purpose of apologizing if everyone already has got their version that they have been told?

Well, that we shall soon find out as I reach Room 203, where a rather smirked face Brendan is laying down and trying his best to chat up a nurse.

Then, of course, “I doubt the poof woman wants to go out with an asshole.”

Yes, I could not keep my mouth shut for one single breath, yet he ignores my remark and continues to try to get a number out of the poor girl. So coming to her rescue, “Please, can you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

She only but chuckles as she gives me a once over up and down, “Please do not shoot him again.”

Now that does get a raise of laughter out of me, which Brendan now himself does not find amusing, yet I wave the nurse off knowing full well that outside the door, unseen to Brendan, is Ray and Ana.”

So Brendan looks at me, turning with a rather serious face, “So your wife came here to fight your battles for you. It seems that you are…”

I immediately stop him, “I did not come here for insults, and I will fucking punch you if you do, so let us save you the broken nose and me some extra charges.”

“Fair,” Brendan agrees and shows for me to sit down, then he continues, “Now, I am not half as bad as my brothers.”

Ya, and I nearly choke on my own breath, but I just told him I wouldn’t insult him, so I will refrain from doing it to him.

Then after he watches me compose myself, he lowers his voice but a fragment “Like I am saying, I am not as bad as my brothers.”

“Well, congratulation then. I think you have just been demoted from the “pity” section to the “apathy” one. You should check the validity of the offer and ask if anyone really cares?”

“Now, here I thought that you were not going to insult me?”

“Hey,” only but burst into a fit of laughter, knowing that if Ana could, she would come around that corner and give me one heck of a smack against the head. So I stop making a clown of myself and continue, “So you are saying that you are not a complete asshole like your brother.” I pause for a brief moment. “Where are the two of them these days?”

“Mark still finds himself in jail, and Paul, well, he is around here and there. But I am not here to discuss my brothers; I am here to give you my conditions for playing alone with self-defense.”