And for what? To satisfy man's twisted dissatisfaction with things as they are. We have to know more, even when it makes us un-happy. Our curiosity is like a demon in all of us. It's subtle, inside we know we should forget about whatever they left out, because odds are they are just trying to protect us from our own emotions and imaginations.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I know this may be shocking, and disturbing to some. In fact you may not want to let the little ones read this part...but yes, even I Conner C. Tracy have fallen pray to this subtle snare. Mines like a super version of sorts though. Basically I want to believe one source a trustworthy source with more credentials than a Harvard medical school graduate. But my gut tells me to believe the source thats has the track record of a Mob lawyer. I thought I had come to a conclusion, I was cool with everyone involved. Everything seemed peachy again, and I just had to let this whole thing blow over. No matter how I try though, more and more info presents itself in more diverse ways. Like bread crumbs stringing me along. I think if the witch had been smart she would have used bread crumbs to trick Hansel and Grettle into coming to her. Think about it, once you find that morsel of knowledge you gobble it up, you savor it like a fine chocolate, take in everything you can from it. Then what do you do? You look for the next one. And generally in situations like mine, if you keep following the bread crumbs you end up at the witches house, but now theres no way back to follow, and no one can come save you. You get so deep in whatever you want to believe happened, that generally you alienate yourself from the friend involved in the process, regardless of what really happened.
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So now here I stand at the clearing in front of the witches cabin. I've followed the bread crumbs through the whole forest and am no worse for the wear. Do I keep going? Do I dare discover the truth behind the situation? Or do I live by the old adage "Ignorance is bliss," and walk back out of the forest the way I came.
1 comment:
remember all those kids in high school... that you hated?
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