Setbacks

Just when I was so close to being set free from this military life, I get knocked on my butt again.
My paperwork sat on someone's desk for two weeks, got improperly "finished" today, so I was sent back to get the same paperwork done all over again- only to be told, oh by the way, we added something else to the list of things you need to submit that paperwork you submitted two weeks ago, so you have to come in two hours early tomorrow and hopefully you can get everything taken care of, because right now you're not good.
Oh yeah, then there's that memory that keeps popping up like some bizarre cross between a stabbing pain and an addict's craving for a part of my past I'm barely even beginning to understand. I have it so good right now, why is this tugging at me when there's nothing to be done, and no way to fix it? I'm hurting so badly and I don't have the first clue how to even explain it to MYSELF, let alone rationalize it out loud. It was a very long day, I am hurting, I am tired, and I don't even want to deal with myself right now.
I got a new tattoo today in a somewhat-effective attempt to dull the impulses- a bullet-riddled heart. I'm sure there will be people who give me the "Why would you get THAT?!" bit for this one- but, really, I have a corndog tattoo. My body is the last thing I'm going to stress out about. It's a vessel for things far more important, and, really, maybe if I can see these memories and feelings, maybe I won't need to go through them inside anymore.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But maybe.