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From an anonymous officer, posted at LAPD Wife:
Exhaustion.
I have been sleep-deprived for three months now. I kicked the caffeine habit before I ever set foot in The Academy, but she has since become my mistress and my master. I find I am always thirsty, fighting off dehydration with a steady stream of sports drinks and bottled water. The sun pounds ultraviolet rays into my scalp, skin goes itchy and red, and the next morning when I step under the hot shower water, I feel my flesh burn. I make homemade splints out of popsicle sticks and wrap my fingers when they get twisted in ways they shouldn't. I don't dream at night any more, but rather all day long. I dream of when I was just a boy and the only thing I cared about was watching Saturday morning cartoons, back when there was no war making me feel guilty for getting the chance to sleep even just a little.
A cute twenty-three year-old recruit holds a blue punching bag for me, but I can't look in those innocent brown eyes of hers and summon the anger I need to break bone. So I stare at the bag, and the bag becomes an evil thing, the rectangular blue beast representing every wrong I've ever met. I strike with an open hand, and feel the impact in two places -- my wrist and my upper back. And suddenly my legs are moving again. I am falling down a steep ravine. Someone else calls it running, but it's really just falling standing up.
More there. I'd title the piece "Three Months of Hell in Elysian Park."
Photo: Wikipedia
