I am hateful, and I gotta say it's the only thing that gets me through tough times. Times the depression was pretty tough. I had the slide racked back, safety off with four pounds of pressure between me and 230 grains of Federal Hydra-Shok lead traveling at 870 feet per second for my brain stem. But my need to see them hurt was greater than my need to escape my pain and I put the pistol down. Shit, the only people I saw making BCA a better place was us kids. Those nice walkways?? Yeah, that was me and others on full times and work assignments. All the rock under the dorm deck?? us. The wood corral?? the pig pen?? we did it. Maybe that is what galls me, that I had to help build the place up so more kids could be packed in. You see those old pictures of the Jews in the 40 and 8 rail cars headed for Aushwitz, Treblinka, Bergen-Belsen, Birkenau, the pictures of soldiers in Vietnam looking right at you, but right through you at the same time. I see pictures like that, I see my friends. They were just kids, they never did anything to deserve that. I can honestly say that your favorite staff had enemies. Staff I liked, well my friend didn't that was how it went. I still have my short timer calender from when I was there, slash marks for every day I spent there. Which tells me that I really didn't like it very much, and the older I get the more I resent them. I know they gave me lots of nifty tools to deal with this sort of situation, but I choose not to use them, because I remember the situations they were shoved down my throat in. So you can hug you stuffy for all it's worth, and try to make some good out of the bad, it ain't gonna work, I tried. The longer you try to lie to yourself, the worse it will get.
