Something in me is wanting to make bad choices.
It’s strange. We’re all familiar with those “I could just violently turn my steering wheel and crash myself” thoughts that we never act upon, at least I hope you don’t, but this is different. This isn’t just tiny silly actions with crazy consequences. Something in me wants to make terrible life decisions.
I want to quit my internship, quit school, then do whatever. I want to drink strong liquor after waking up, ordering cheap fatty food to be delivered to my home. I want to tell everyone I see to fuck off, get into fights, not treat my injuries. I want to get on the very next flight to where the fuck ever and just roam, see how long I can hold out ’til I die. I want to live too risky, contract awful diseases.
But I also have the presence of mind to know those are all no bueno, and that the regret would come as soon as any kind of pleasure, if I were to derive that in the first place. He’s there though, sitting on my shoulder, whispering, hinting.
Pesky little bugger, annoying little shit. I’m taking suggestions for names.