nothing worth publishing

I often laugh at how things sometimes go, i never imagined that I would have an online journal, much less a published one. mybe its the need to feel like i have somebody to talk to, maybe its the want to tell my story, or hell maybe its both. I am 22 years old and i have been to hell and Iraq, i have been on the brink of insanity and back ( a pathetic rhyme i know). I have been on top of the world and then had the rug snatched out from under my feet. I have loved so fiercely that i thought i would catch fire, only to watch them shatter in front of me because of something that i had done. i have been self serving and selfish and for that i have suffered many losses at my own hand. i have become my own worst enemy and my most cruel critic. i was once a wife and a mother and a US soldier, now i am holding on to a thread a victim of my own self made indulgences, and circumstances. out of three children i have but only one that i live for. the memories of my pre marriage relationship with my ex husband keeps me from becoming a cold monster, they keep me real, and yes, they make me bleed, which i think sometimes is a blessing. nobody has not done anything to me that I have not allowed to happen, and for that i am disguted with myself, it shows my weakness. this is the story of me coming into me.