[ WP ] A young student is drafted off to fight in a bloody foreign war . He quickly finds that war is the most enjoyable thing he has ever experienced .

Going to parties has the appeal of work. Meeting people is harder then ending them. A game of beerpong becomes repetitive after the 2nd shot, yet everyone at the parties watches the two or four people playing like it's football on TV, their dull faces and their dull minds wrapping around something simple, something they can understand. I ca n't understand it. Everyone laughs at parties. People are meeting tonight's fuckbuddy. People are grinding on the genitalia of the opposite sex to too-loud rap music. None of it has substance. I'm infected by them, these dullards. I can feel myself going away, slipping away—becoming them. 
 
 In a not-so-dramatic way, this is what I tell my friends, my real friends—the people I ran away to, the people who carry 60 pounds on their back with me as we go on another patrol. They have their reasons, I have mine. Theirs are all the same: money, honor, boredom. In one way or another their answers all drain into one and they can be understood. I tell everyone I'm here for money. It's a lie. I'm here because not being here means death. Not being here means looking at stupid faces who live to work and work to drink. College preps them all for the inevitable. And it's true, the people I'm with now, my comrades-in arms, their prepping for it too. They all hate it here. They all want out. Get in, get out, get a degree, get a job, get dead. But maybe this is a job for me too. People work because it's what they have to do. I kill because it's what I have to do. It's my job afterall. But it's true what they say, it's not work if you love what you do. 
 
 Only snipers get confirmed kills. I'm not a sniper. But I have a rough estimate nonetheless. Each one is a test, not unlike English 101. I ace every test I take. I aced a test yesterday. A man the same as me perhaps, different only in what side he picked, got graded. Over here I'm the teacher and my students respect me. Over here I expel the little shits who do n't listen. I had to expel myself from over there, from where those dullards are who live to die. I tie myself on death's tracks so I can live. That's the difference, I'm the fucking teacher, let the students sit.
