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Last night was pretty hard. I wouldn’t want to repeat it too often. What happened? Nothing sinister, or threatening or dangerous. I met a friend. A mate from my Army days, he was in the recce platoon with me. We shared a glass, and a meal, and chatted about old times. Then we went our seperate ways. It had been a good afternoon, fun and friendly.
The trouble started on the drive home. I got to thinking about other characters, other taskings.
I have a deed box in my house. Where I keep documents and important bits and pieces. I got it out and started looking through my keepsakes, the things I thought i needed to keep.r
Ladies, I cried. I cried for the confused boy , for the angry adolescent, the young adult who denied his real life and challenged his feelings and emotions. I cried for the proud soldier I had become, and I cried for the girl I would not let into the world. I cried for the young woman who lived in my body. I cried for the loss of my career. I cried for the freedom I gained when I realised what I needed to do. I cried with joy when I remembered the euphoria when I saw Jenni in the mirror for the first time and I cried for the freedom I now have to live the life I should be living.
Does my night ring a bell with anyone?
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