The U.S. has been selling itself for decades, piece by piece. This is the story of when our debts come due. Although the country is lost, the immediate enemy is not those from abroad, rather everyone who must survive. With the Chinese forces far off, but closing in, this story follows a man and those he hopes to protect. Not trained for war or survival, but thrust into both.
I apologize in advance, my writing will be as simple as I am. I pride myself on having a strong back and a weak mind. My callused, beaten, and scarred hands tell the story of my hard but rewarding life.
I often think about why we tell our stories. I would say that most want to entertain, while others want fame and fortune. Maybe we want to make a statement about what we see and experience in life. I don't want any of those. I just want to pass the time. It's not that there isn't anything to do—in fact, there is too much to do, and I'm always doing. For once, I just want to do something that does not take my limited and precious energy, so I write.
I have many deficits in life; people often think I have a lack of emotion. I guess I would agree, but what I lack in emotion, I compensate for with fierce loyalty. A year ago, at my age, I never thought I would need to fight again. I was comfortable avoiding conflict—no need to ruin the day. Not to sound arrogant, but now, it would be wise not to cross me or those that I care for. There had been those who would be offended by my aggressive tone, those with soft emotions and softer hands, but they haven't made it this far.
This past year has changed those of us who remain. Those of us who have survived have not done so by luck alone. We had to fight, and scrape through every day. Slowly we were work-hardened and found what it takes to survive in this new savage world. Our souls carry the weight of what we have had to do, and we are all living this life now. We are all living a story, and this is mine.
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