I knew things would be different when I returned, when you burn Bridges before you leave it gives you nothing to return home to, I suppose.
In the eyes of the nation I should've returned home somewhat of a hero, but a hero is the last thing that I feel right now.
'Hero' represents bravery and leadership and I feel nothing but a coward.
Knowing I wouldn't have anywhere to go when I returned home, hopping on a bus and riding it out to its final destination was my version of a plan. If the army taught me anything, it was to adapt to your current situation, make plans on a whim, and deal with the consequences later.
So, I guess that's what led me here, sitting on a bus with nothing but a bag full of clothes, trying to restart my life as a 30-year-old man. I've seen more of the world than I had of America in the short three year tour but as I gaze out on the window at my passing surrounds, part of me wishes I never left.
The scenes of countryside and shore lines look a lot more peaceful in this land than they did the others, but I guess that's what I was fighting for wasn't it? To keep the peace of my homeland.
"Good evening passengers, our final stop brings us into Maine. All remaining travellers must vacate the service here"
I guess this is it. Maine would be my new home.
