Page 142 - Total War on PTSD_FINAL

uniform sitting on a yoga mat in an art studio with a dusty floor. Well, I am that man. Let me tell you what I see.”
I see a child that was beaten by his alcoholic father. “I probably deserved it.” [scrape away some clay]
He beat my mother in front of me and my brothers. “She DIDN’T deserve it.” [scrape away]
Finally, after all these years she is leaving him. [more dust on the floor]
Why am I getting tossed back and forth? [dust]
My best friend killed himself. We’re just kids! [scrape, press, dust]
I have to move out on my own, get a job, pay my bills and finish high school on my own. [more dust]
I am trying hard to make dad proud but nothing is working. I’ll try harder. [scrape]
I have to get away from here but how? I’ll join the military, that’ll make him proud. No. [squeeze]
Going to war. I want to go. I need to go. [press]
My best friend was burned so badly that I didn’t recognize him when he asked for help. [take more off]
Back from war. He’ll be proud. No. [dust]
He died. Damn it! Why? Just once! Why didn’t you say those words? PROUD. [fuck] Regroup. My family. My career. Focus. [dust]
Failed marriage. Kids won’t speak to me. I’m alone. [mud, dust, scrape]
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