PO Box 1980

I used to believe that life was a constant struggle whose only reward was death. At the time when I believed this, I was in the Navy, drinking at least a case of beer a night (and anything else I could get my hands on). I constantly fought with my superiors and my peers, my bills had started to follow me around like lost puppies. I was twice passed over for promotion, and my girl back home told me to stop bothering her. Meanwhile my ship was in the middle of a seven-month deployment overseas. I felt like someone had put my head in a blender and turned it to puree.