Tow Truck Driver and Edgar in “Twenty-Two”

Dreams?

Some real bad ones.

Hypervigilance?

I saw a sniper on the overpass.

IEDs in the trash?

Yes! Roadside trash is the worst. Why can't they just throw it away?

Suicidal thoughts? You know the stats? 22 every day. Though, in truth, there are some Vietnam dudes that are jacking up our numbers, but still.

I thought starting today, things would get better. But they don't give a shit.

Here's what you got to understand. They're not evil. None of 'em are. The military's job is to sand down our humanity just enough to where we can take a life. That's it. Afterwards, some totally separate branch gets to deal with all these purposely broken motherfuckers. Not only is that impossible with the resources, that's just impossible, period.

Yeah, well, then, what are we supposed to do?

Not wait for someone to help you. Figure out what works. My man Carter, he hunts all the time. This big chopper pilot I know, he goes to yoga. And we make fun of him, but it seems to work. Jorge hikes the PCT once a year. I got this companion dog. I wanted a big, mean dude, but the organization gave me this little scrub. He saved my life, this guy. This other bro I know locks himself in his bedroom and stabs his closet door. I mean, he's not getting his deposit back, but once the rage passes, he's fine. I know you don't want to hear this, but the minute you stop looking for someone else to cure you, maybe you start living again.