I Rather Dance With You

The apt title for this post should be "coming clean". But I realised I have used this photo before in a post called ' I rather dance with you". It would therefore seems that out of convenience and style that I should title this post in such an inappropiate manner. But in essence, this is what I want to talk about today.
People and friends have a misinterpretation of the things I (or we ) do. I feel a disgusting anguish towards them, for being unsympathetic and ignorant. I detest civilians and other enlistees alike as they see us as nothing more than people who get a chunkier pay cheque. I have always turned a blind eye, smiling to any possibility of tensions arising from such situations. But last night, when a close friend made such a comment, I could feel my veins flowing black with hatred and contempt. Its disgusting, not him. But me.
In many ways, I AM Lieutenant Jimmy Cross if not, Norman Bowker. For those who do not know what in world I am talking about, these are characters from the book, The Things They Carried.
Lta. Jimmy Cross was a humble and mild mannered young officer in the Vietnam War who strived for the attention of Martha, a junior he had back in college. Martha was his only anchor to the life he once knew. Sadly, his only anchoring and support in life is nothing more than a play and exagerration of feelings that Martha never returned to him.
One of his men, Norman Bowker had more intense issues. After experiencing so much in the war, he is unable to communicate his experience, enthusiasm and self-pride to others. He eventually hung himself silently in a YMCA locker after a game of basketball.
I am norman bowker. I may not have seen war, tasted it or felt the brush of bullets in the air but my experience is similar in essence. It is different from what YOU go through, don't argue. Its different and you know it. This is not an issue of war, this is an issue of experience and the glass walls that confide the attached emotions into an awkard corner.
How would you feel it if there are so many things you embraced, but none of which you could adequately share with others? You keep your mouth shut, you can try fitting in mundanely. But when you attempt to share what you have, people look at you bored, if not a look a 'retardation'/ "And why do you think what you are saying is relevant to me? " All the sweat (diffused with camouflage) blood (from hands and knees), becomes completely worthless.

They say that you are enough to be your own audience. But have you tried clapping alone in a opera hall?

Many months ago, I told you that the above photo was taken as a gift to you.
"Its a swaying Cyalume stick of green in the middle of a dark night.I Rather Dance with you than talk with you. :-)"
I painted a serene picture for you to see. But here's the truth, the picture wasnt taken with you as an intention, it was taken out of desperation. Yes, its a cyalume stick of green in the middle of the night, but it wasnt swaying. It was flung around out in my fatigued attempt to stay awake.