Slow Down

I always promised myself that I wouldn't do it. I can't even compare it to a promise because it's something that would be so out of character in the first place. When I think of promises, I think of a covenant that's difficult to fulfill. And this isn't supposed to be difficult, whether it be out of fear or with a sprinkle of will power. 

I see it as the scariest, most thrilling roller coaster on the planet. Like Kingda Ka in Six Flags. When that monster was first built, I didn't even know it was a roller coaster. It was so out of character - just straight up and down. Then when I saw what it was capable of, I was immediately repelled. No fuckin' way, not for me. The second time I encountered it, I was tempted. Even little kids were on it. If they can do it, then I can. "Ahh, but they don't know me, I care about living, and that looks like it can kill you." Third time around, I decided to stand in line, ready to leave at any heightened anxiety. By the time I knew it, I was sucked into the seat, ready to be launched. "Holy.... SHIT." I was a rocket in the sky, and before I knew it, my feet where back on Earth. After experiencing the thrill, I definitely knew it was something I would do again in a heartbeat. 

It's like that. The more I'm around the prospect of this certain "thrill," I'm less and less repelled. That fear turns into temptation, and that sprinkle of will power turns into handfuls. But this thrill is definitely more risky, like a fork in the road with no return.

It's bad, but I want to.