What if we add lust?
Where would that fall into your perfectly crafted sphere?
Get up. Lay down.
Perform all the things that belong in the middle of a normally middle-class existence.
Do this, do that. All because it’s right.
Maybe you’re better than most.
You have capacity for mom and dad, brother and sister, daughter and son – all perfectly coexistent and revolving around your id and ego.
Maybe you’re not capable.
All self-centered and calculating.
I won’t judge.
Maybe there’s no one else.
* * *
I won’t lie.
It takes work.
It’s hard to do what’s right.
My selfishness, my addictiveness, drives me towards lonely places where the only correct choice is the choice the most base level of my existence wants.
It takes logic to weigh the consequences.
Thankfully, logic delivers results that are deeply rewarding.
Results you take to bed. Results you wake up with and sometimes go, “Yeah, that made total sense.”
Results you wake up with sometimes and go, “Thank god.”
* * *
Let’s not mince words.
It’s a world of temptation; and these temptations come in so many forms.
I can’t name them all.
Pick your poison.
Drink. Drugs. Sex. Gambling. Knowledge. Power. Fear. Remorse. Regret.
Any of them can send you down a path; a path that’s hard to find the exit from.
I’ve dabbled in more than a few of those.
And I’ve only found the right way home through careful thought.
A lot of people I love will say they’ve found the way home through God. Through Jesus. Through religion.
That’s cool. I get that.
It just ain’t my path.
But I get it.
I could follow that path.
If I could find it.
If my foot would land there; and trust the ground to be stable.
* * *
The temptations are everywhere.
Flesh. Power. The promise of something more.
Is it money you want? People? Respect?
What is it you crave?
And why do you want it?
Where are you going with this endless unease; and why are you willing to throw everything you have away to get it?
You thought that question was for you?
I was asking it of myself.
* * *
I’ve held my daughter when she needs me; laid by son when he thought he was going to die; and through all of that, preserved the relationship with Heidi.
Through the normal ‘tween shit, through all the scary hospitalizations with my son, through the temptations that exist everywhere, we’ve come out on the other side.
If you had the privilege to sit in our home on a random Tuesday at 7:30 p.m., you’d have no clue what we’ve been through. The mountains we’ve climbed.
Sorry, I respect your pain, I respect your fear, but sometimes – as horrible as it sounds – screw you.
Do two stints with Guillain-Barre and tonic-clonic seizures.
Respect to all of you who’ve watched a love one suffer or watched disease and sickness rack up your children. — But to the rest of you: Man the f up.
I don’t have to apologize.
Eight years of sleeping with fear – of ripping apart my gut – means I get to be judgmental. You want to join my club? …
No. You don’t.
But here’s the crazy part.
I’m still human.
Longing for things.
To feel alive.
And so I stray – here and there, to and fro.
In love – and in disgust – with the world, with that pretty girl, with you.
I don’t wanna’ die unfulfilled.
There’s so much to have.
You tell yourself that.
I’ll go to bed.
Logic, firmly in place.