Getting out of the Marine Corps has been as much of a curse as it has been a gift. After 4 years, life in the military eventually takes its toll on you. It happened to all of us who got out. We found ourselves spending more hours of our life in pointless lines at the armory trying to turn a weapon in that you spent 6 hours cleaning and has been in circulation since before Desert Storm. You sit in a formation for 30 minutes waiting to get cut for the weekend because some asshole officer is sitting in his office while all of the enlisted wait outside like dogs on a leash waiting for their master. You just wanna get out. You’re tired of the group punishment, tired of hearing the same old shit everyday. You wanna go home. You’re sick of the politics and the process. You’ve been told what to wear, where to go and you just wanna be YOU again. And at first getting out is amazing. You do 3 or 4 cartwheels as you walk into IPAC and hold your DD214 high and proud as you drive off base for the last time. But what you don’t know is that while you may be leaving the Marine Corps, the Marine Corps will never leave you. Like a drug that controls you, your brain will constantly replay only the fondest of memories that you spent with some of the best people that you will ever know. And *poof*, just like that, you no longer dwell on the rainy field ops, stupid uniform inspections, or standing outside your room on field day in your chucks, or getting yelled at for walking on the grass. Instead, you think about your friends. You remember all of the things you did together. You remember that no matter where you go in life or who you may meet, the Marine Corps will always remain a major part of the nucleus of your existence. You are a Marine now and you will be a Marine 50 years from now.
That’s why Marines are different. That’s why getting out of the Marine Corps is like checking into rehab. You may never go back, but I promise you that you are going to relapse in your mind every single night.