Kill

I find it strange that we knowingly kill ourselves. We know what’s good for us and what isn’t, and yet we constantly find new ways of doing what we know we shouldn’t do. Perhaps it’s all in the thrill of not knowing whether this would be the one time something awful would happen and we actually would die, or maybe it’s in that terrible lurch in our stomachs that feels so oddly simultaneously good and bad. We puff on that next cigarette, inject foreign substances into our veins, drive like we’re alone on the road, poison our systems with bizarre things we don’t actually need. What we want is too often mistaken for what we need. We kill others by first killing ourselves.