I am hell on earth. I'm torn in directions unimaginable. Yet here I am? Am I supposed to be this confused? Am I supposed to be love incarnate, and fight through my urge to commit unintended suicide? Everyone can have love for me, but most will be unwanted. It's simple fact is it not? Yet how am I supposed to rationalize between what is right and what is supposed to actually happen? Responsibility and self-proving are on one side, with safety, love and comfort on the other. How dare I side against love? How dare I face conflicts so that others can pretend their life is so worthwhile? I don't know what I'm doing, but I know I'll never know if it was worth it.

If I go to Iraq I give a service to so many. The journalist who doesn't have to go because I agreed would likely thank me. The family of that person as well. Those who receive the news would give thanks in their own way, without ever really acknowledging me. This is what I want to do, so it would give me experience. This is what I think I want to do, so it would really cement this idea.

This could be the end of my life. It's not a random trip, it's a mission as dangerous as that of the soldiers. Especially if I take the 6 month option. No body guards to protect me, only the skills I learn on my own in 3 weeks. Yet it excites me. I would threaten my friendships, my life, and the mental health of those who love me. I would more than likely suffer from the effects of this job sooner or later, but this seems a little too soon. I don't know if I'm talking myself into it, or out.