It's disturbing personal revelation time!

Alas, poor Kurt Vonnegut. We knew him well, kinda. Personally, I didn't much enjoy his writing, as it was way too depressing. I read "Slaughter-house Five" and was slightly amused, but not enough to bother seeking out the rest of his work. Perhaps this makes me a bad person. But anyway, hearing about Kurt's death got me thinking of other depressing authors, which got me thinking about the time when I came closer to suicide than any other.

So not shit, there I was, in Fallujah in August 2003. I was still motivated and convinced that we were Fighting The Good Fight To Save Civilization. The stress was starting to get to me, but I was still ready to kick ass, take names, and sign autographs for the adoring Iraqi children. I was bored, though. I had already read through every book in the TOC at least once. Then, one day, one of my fellow grunts got a care package from home. In addition to a bunch of Oprah's Book Club CRAP, there was a copy of Joseph Heller's "Catch-22". I had heard of that book, and that it was suppossed to be funny, so I started to read it...

About half way through, I was seriously considering the merits of bayonet vs. 5.56 bullet. It wasn't a _bad_ book, oh no, it was very well written and evocative, full of dark humor both subtle and absurd. But it was DEPRESSING AS HELL. Definitely the wrong book to read in a war zone, when your own personal doubts have already started to surface. I haven't been able to pick up that book since, the mere though of doing so fills me with dread.

There, now everyone else should chime in!