The night before, I feel nervous and anxious. My mind races about my performance possibly sucking.
I charge my single battery. I charge my camera battery. I practice my auto-aim around my apartment in my underwear and eventually get irritated by the sound of a handful of BBs in a metal high cap.
I put my only working gun down, but fondle it first. It feels like cold smoke stone. It has served me well.
My nerves are wringing my insides so I kill the discomfort by getting wasted.
I either dance, go crazy, torture people, watch stuff, or play videogames.
I lay in bed with my limbs embracing my galil until I turn around in bed.
I stay awake in half repose due to adrenaline.
I do not engage in sexual activity because the imminent battle clouds all else.
The sun rises, my ride comes over and I take so long to get my shit together.
Now the mission is CIGARETTES and ENERGY DRINKS and GATORADE.
On the ride, we tune in to 105.9 for buttrock-metal anthems.
I start feeling rather paranoid and strangely nationalistic (to the Islands).
Notions of my own weakness and smallness appear and disappear before me. I fear everyone thinks I'm a bleeding weirdo.
I avoid eye contact with everyone.
I do not think of food. I put the gatorade in my camelbak. I put my killing face on. I feel like an animal.
