Life has the volume turned down on it after you’ve been in a firefight. Once the adrenaline has coursed through your veins, the tracers have zipped and snapped passed your head, and the smell of cooking gun lubricant has filled your nostrils, everything else seems safe and tame.

A bad neighborhood is no longer a place with trash and a high crime rate. A bad neighborhood is the one where they shot at you with RPG’s and small arms during an IED attack.

A bad day is not being late for work, spilling your coffee, or missing your deadlines. A bad day is losing a good friend, seeing children dead for no reason, and feeling complete physical and mental exhaustion.

You are filled with pride at being tested at one of mankind’s most taxing exams and coming out on top.

The world at home just seems better. Brighter, more colorful, happier, more relaxing, and ultimately boring. It’s the boredom that gets you, eventually. Not feeling that triumph, that sense of worth, or that pride after it’s over.