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…