I’ve been there before.
In a place of restlessness caused by relocation - or a position without
stimulation – or perhaps it was a certain stillness which forced my hand to be
moved by forces of mischief. Of course,
these were in the days of my youth…long since passed. I have since learned other forms of relieving
the stifling grip of the foggy hand which chokes out sane decisions under stagnant
living. Gone are the reckless decisions
made on too much testosterone, on lack of experience or perhaps an emboldened
will reinforced by liquid courage.
I have learned to embrace the peace and stability of life
but wonder if the days ahead, (many years from now) will cause me to seek out
little disruptions in order to re-ignite…something.
Honestly, it scares me to think that I could move in that
direction.
As in this story, the main character, as he set out on his
normal day, had no intention of theft, had no idea of the twists that his life
would take as a result of his minor
crime. An unexpected result to what he
considered an almost innocent procurement of someone else’s property (he knew
it was wrong…but the stillness – the sameness – the routine forced his hands to
commit the action).
The mind and its fragility – to be massively altered from
one state to another by chemicals of its hosts own manufacture – or a simple
physical breakdown in the tube(s ) supplying the life giving blood to a portion
of the brain or body that sets off a chain reaction of destruction that alters
us completely to a person seemingly unrecognizable from who we were moments before.
It’s as if we are constantly walking on that tightrope –
never knowing when our mind will decide that the world needs to be a bit
different and we misstep – and slip…
