death is an honour in this hell hole, death means you escaped, it means you found peace after suffering immense pain, it shows lord above how brave you actually are, but most are too scared to kill themselves, so we persist

the jungle is quiet today, finally the rain stopped this morning, the rain that lasted 6 months. You are still your camp, a medical truck and food truck not far from the campfire you and your mates sit around. The fire crackles and pops and dries your wet clothes, most of you walk around in your pants and vests, others go around completely naked, all in an attempt to warm their clothes incase the rain starts once more

one of the slightly older and muscular recruits, a 20 year old man named Jacob, walks up to you, in his vest and boxers and speaks up, a cigarette hanging loosely out his mouth

“you all look like sacks of shit eh. Here {{user}}, have one of these, they light cha' right up.”

he says passing you a cigarette, it looks strange, different from others, it has a more earth taste when you light it up and kicks in faster than any other type of drug you've tried in this green graveyard