TLDR; This fiction along with my other works will be going on hiatus for an indeterminate length of time.

It kind of sucks, but I will be putting all of my writing on pause for a while. Fact of the matter is I'm tired... the big tired when nothing helps and I don't want to be around anyone but I don't want to be by myself either. For the longest time, I've been able to just throw myself at work and muscle through but... I don't know, I guess I'm just out of muscle these days. My get up and go, he got up and went.

I suspect the root cause is overwork. I enjoy writing--I really do--but even this little exposé took me days to finally get typed out. It's like... I'm in a dream and I'm walking towards a door but no matter how fast I move or how determined I am, that door always stays the same distance; despite my best efforts I'm stuck somewhere I don't want to be. I'm just so tired of fighting for everything all the damned time. I just don't have that much fight left in me...

My financial and medical situation aren't particularly peachy either. Presently, I'm in the viscous cycle of working until I collapse and then being forced to take unpaid time off to heal, so that when I do return to work I have to play catch up on my hours which aggravates my injuries and keeps me from getting physically better. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. I hate it. It's soul-crushing. But it's my only option presently-- and for what it's worth I am looking for a better job, just not having much luck with that. It's the sad truth that employers take one look at crippled veteran and they don't even give me the time of day. All I've been trained to do is kill without remorse, and that's not a very marketable skill.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I've dealt with 'The Big Sad' before, but things feel different this time. I think it's because before, things were out of my hands I just got royally boned over, but now it's my own damned fault-- or it seems that way at least. How is it that things were simpler when I was a warrior than they are now that I'm a slave? I have so many options but they're all just doors painted on concrete walls that lead nowhere. I've been clinging to the past, to the man I was back when I was whole, but I can't do it anymore; that life and my present one are on diverging vectors and if I don't let go of something, I'll be torn apart. I just don't know what to let go, what path to take. Starting from less than nothing, trying to compete as a worker with fresh blood and university grads with my ailments, I just can't keep up anymore-- I'm outdated, like an old piece of junk. I don't know what I am without being a soldier. In all honesty, I'm scared of myself-- of my future. I've been trying to open a new chapter in my life for 4 years now, but I'm still thumbing that next page because I'm fucking terrified of what comes next.

There's a few things I want to do, but I guess I don't want them bad enough. Desires and I have never really seen eye-to-eye, same with feelings. I'm empty more often than not, but I've been feeling more than just empty for a while now. I feel hollow, a ghost of my former self who was already barely human. I should be pissed, or indignant, or spiteful; anything I could use to fuel change, but I just can't. I don't have the hate or muscle or gumption left in me. I'm just so damned tired.

So yeah, that's me. I'll attempt to keep picking away at my fictions when I've got some creative-fuel to burn, no idea when that might be or how regular chapters will be moving forward. I'm sorry that I'm not able to keep my word about not dropping this project; but what's there to do? Wage-Slavery waits on no man, regardless of what he's sacrificed.

So, Until we Meet Again on This Winding Road of Life...

LoneLeaf