Language is where lives quietly succeed...
...and quietly collapse.

That's Not What I Meant You walked out of that conversation replaying it on an infinite loop. The words you chose weren't the words you intended. Now you're lying in bed at 2 a.m., cycling through what you should have said. Here's the thing about intentions: they're invisible. What landed was what you said, not…

You walked out of that interview, knowing you had lost before you sat down. You over-explained, using "just" and "sorry" continuously. You were so busy trying to be likable that you forgot to be competent. This isn't about confidence. Confidence is a feeling. What you were missing is the ability to occupy space without apologizing…

Yes, you fucking morons — you. You have no universally agreed-upon definition for communication, and yet you told me you communicated mission parameters to the corporal. Did he even receive the information you just pushed in his direction? Lieutenant Hardknuckle was correct, though. I was a teacher and Zack was a diesel mechanic, but neither…

Abandoned fragments of a previous life. Wreckage. Leftovers bearing little resemblance to the stuff it once was. In an off-limits-for-civilians area of a military training base, I saw remnants of walls, dams, and houses. I can only imagine who lived there before the army procured it for showing recruits how to bomb the crap out…