Life After Incoming

I haven;t posted in a bit, the internet in our rooms is down, and I usually have my thoughts walking home from the office, so it makes it hard to blog.

I did notice one thing, though. After an incoming, or sometimes, when you haven't had one in a bit and you're just waiting for the next one to come in, walking home at night is like walking into a basement, or in the woods, or in a dark alley, right after seeing a horror movie. You feel yourself start to move faster, knowing that as soon as you get to a hardened building your fine... and you move a little faster, and you have to consciously slow yourself down, because you know that every time you step it up a bit, you give in to the, for lack of a better word, panic. It's not really panic, because it's not the down-deep terrifying experience that panic really is, but it's certainly not a happy place to be. And rationally, you know that you're gonna be okay, at least statistically, so that's why I compare it to a horror film, something you've seen on television that isn't really real.