DONAVAN
- Reads 1,527
- Votes 28
- Parts 9
Ongoing1h 13m
Last published Thu, Jul 20, 2017
You're not the same when you leave a war. Wether it's Iraq, Afghanistan, or Iran. Point is, no matter what war you come home from you're damaged. Damaged mentally, physically, or both. For me it was both. Waking up in the dead of night hearing my brother, Danny, screaming in agony, begging not to leave him or having sudden pain jolt my body. Getting up at 2:00 in the morning, strapping on my prosthetic leg, and taking walk, just to clear my head. Or pacing the house with in with a gun clutched to my side and a knife in my hand. Seeing my fellow soldiers as if they were actually there and talking to them as if they could understand and speak back. I had what so many doctors called PTSD and the severest case of it. Level 4 or level black. I drug myself in and out of several constant alcoholic dazes, drugs, and counseling. I was teetering on the edge and was for a really long time. It changed when I got a chance to start over.
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