blood

My father has been pushing me more and more, everyday everyday, to join the marines. my dad was a marine. he was a shitty dad but a great marine. As bad a father as he was, i still look up to him. i've got no one else, he's my dad. my dad can walk on water. every little kid thinks his dad rules the world. my dad did. he was the angel gabriel. the arch angel gabriel sounded his horn and death came like a thief in the night. my dad was a scout sniper. his targets would hear the sound of his barret M107.50 caliber sniper rifle right before nothingness and chuch bells, hitting the ground like a 180 lbs. bag of wet, black platnium cow shit.

But maybe its not for me. i come from a long line of military men. Grandfathers, great grandfathers, and uncles on both sides of the family. But maybe it's not for me. I found out that if you join the marines they pay 25,000 dollars of your student loans. getting a bill for 36,000 dollars just last week made the military look a little better. but maybe its not for me. thats just what the world needs, another drunk marine, walking around your town with his chest pushed out in arrogant pride, that you all can call smitty. My dad said to me, Don't you love your country?, and i said Yes. well maybe i just like it a lot, not love it. Its like weve only been on a few dates and i don't know if i love it yet. the pressure he puts on me to join the marines feels like i am pulling this massive weight that is the marine corps emblem, globe with an anchor coming out the side and an eagle on top. land, sea, and air. first to go, last to leave type of shit. it says it all in this emblem. My father bleeds camoflage and eats full metal jacket rounds. this is how i was raised. toughen up, toughen up, don't you dare cry. all of me is not my father, but my heart, that big chest muscle that keeps me alive, does pump marine corps blood. but maybe its not for me.