Thirty five years of military service had been boiled down to a fifteen minute ceremony at a random military base in the middle of Georgia. Thirty five years of service, servitude and sacrifice so that maybe two hundred people could see it. I wasn't a young man any more. I was in my fifties. I had given the best years of my life to a cause that most people learn about from video games and senile grandfathers. As I stood there listening to the keynote speaker ramble on about how much I and my fellow soldiers had given to this country, I kept wondering what the point was. We protected a country that did not care about us, outside of giving change to a lonely veteran working the side of a highway. I blinked, sweat pouring into my right eye. I resisted the urge to wipe my eyes, managed to retain my professional demeanor. The sweat blurred my vision, distracting me from the speech, almost making me miss my cue to walk to the podium. I strode forward, shaking the speakers hand as I passed him. I reached into my pocket, trying to pull out my speech. I missed my pocket, touching my sidearm. My heart quickened.

All I could think of was that I was being discharged, and that I had no future outside of a small military pension. No wife, no friends. No family. Nothing but an empty townhouse purchased before my wife died. I looked down, stifling tears. Looked at my sidearm. Paused. Breathed. Looked into the already bored crowd. They didn't want to be here, in this heat, listening to old men speak about wars they had no investment or interest in. I pulled my speech, placing it on the podium, crowd continuing to stare at me in a burning silence. I opened my mouth, trying to begin. Nothing. Tears, as hot as the Georgia sun, dripped from my eyes to my spotless uniform. The crowd grew restless, uncomfortable with pain. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't look these people in the eye anymore and say that I was here to protect them. No more. I had no more.

I pulled my sidearm, placing the barrel on the side on head. I heard screams, faintly, as if a world apart. And, really, we were. We had nothing in common outside of the fact that none of us really wanted to be here. I flipped the safety off, squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from flowing. Did I really want to do this? Did I want to be remembered for being the man who committed suicide in front of children and families? I looked out into the crowd, searching for a reason to stay alive, to be here. I locked eyes with a child no older than four, sitting with his mother. Neither had moved. The mother was terrified into shock, but the son just sat there, looking into my eyes. I looked deeper into his eyes, searching for my answer.

I pulled the trigger.
Quote by skaterskagg1
Gotta have more shaft!

Don't sig that!

Just because you said not too!