I am a killer. I have destroyed lives. I have made acts of violence against people in defense of myself, and my brothers in arms. I am a gear that turned for the agenda of the rich and powerful. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I buried the poor, the zealots. I am sorry I fought for nothing. I am sorry my people don't have the power to fight those forces that are so willing to continually destroy life. What happened to society progressing, technology becoming so advanced, and helping the world? I am sorry that I cannot change the way the world works. I am sorry I cannot stop the killing, the dying, the sickness, the desolation, the desperation, the starvation, the dehydration, the battle for power, or human greed. I became a warrior to help battle these things, I only ended up propelling them further. Once I escaped the hand of the government that pulled my strings in directions with no explanation I found myself in society again. I see everyone with a different hand up their backs and over their eyes. I see television, advertisement, Internet, books, blogs, radio, and mental separation from the world we live in. They use the body rhythms, the natural attractions, the instinct, the emotions of the mass to guide them through a maze. I see the elderly of my generation culturally extinct, reminiscent of trivial things, and with no real concept of meaning. I see that now in the world around me. I have lost cultural identity, i have lost purpose of being. The overpopulated world does not need my children, my grandchildren, when it does not need me. Success in the American mind is wealth or recognition, that is not what I need. I don't need a house in the suburbs and an SUV. I can not have that. I don't know if I can be happy. Guilt, remorse, loss, envy, anger, and pain destroy me. They are who I am, I am not me, I am these things. It may sound as if I want pity, I do not. I hate pity. I don't want comfort for nothing can comfort me. I don't want closeness, closeness will never be the same. I want to disappear, to live at the bottom, in the gutters, only living in dreams. Things are better when they don't make perfect sense. I'm sorry.