There are quotes, I'm sure, all about this idea. And going into my freshman year, this couldn't be truer. Coming out of 8th grade, I actually managed to solidify enough friendships that when people said I "didn't have friends" as an insult, it was solely that and nothing more. It was actually a joke at that point, and not fact.
Going into freshman year, I had quite frankly gotten tired of being so closed-off and cautious. At that time, I figured if I didn't change things up and carry myself differently, my life would not be anymore memorable than the "wisdom" of a fortune cookie. Or a graduation speech. I mean, the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results, right? And I surely didn't want that. So I switched lanes and let loose. Went out and did things. Which consequently meant that one Friday morn, I found myself surrounded by fellow goons, circled around a coffee table in the bed section of Bed Bath & Beyond, planning the days... "heists". Passers by had no idea they were peering into the heart of a den of thieves when they awkwardly sifted their way past our seating arrangement. After a brief disclaimer if you will, we broke off into groups and combed, if not poached, our way through the entire mall. Vans, Converse, Dick's, Zummiez, Pacsun, Hollister, American Eagle, Macy's, JCPenney,- they didn't know what hit them. We took the lot. Everything from expensive cologne, to full pairs of jeans and headphones. Some for ourselves to wear as trophies, others to sell off at school the following Monday. A true show of cunning and finesse only the likes of Monsieur and Madame Thernardier would truly appreciate ( *cue Master of The House* ). Working in teams to pick out certain pieces and prizes one after another. Greed beat out any amount of time spent feeling abash.
.JPG)
Walking in with nothing but the clothes on our backs and twenty dollars between the five of us, we left with much, much more. Basically, what we did, was we used that initial amount of capital to invest in some small items from stores we knew would offer larger bags. Once those bags were acquired, not only then did we have a sound cover alibi, but we also had somewhere to put all the paraphernalia that wasn't all too obvious. By the moment we stepped foot outside the mall, we had give or take twenty pounds worth of product on each of our persons.
You know... You'd think we'd have felt bad about everything. I mean... We were thieves, lowly shoplifters... But somehow, it all seemed justified. Like as if just knowing the businesses that we stole from were thriving ones somehow testified for itself. Made it okay. Moreover, "the thrill of the hunt" was something I'd never before felt. I was afraid of heights, so I never road roller-coasters. I was afraid of deep, unclear water, so I never swam in anything that wasn't a pool. I was afraid of what people might do under the cover of night, so I barred myself from being out past dusk. But this, this here for whatever reason, was okay because it allowed my heart to pump in a way that it never had before whilst also bypassing the parameters of all my other self-regulations/fears. I had never felt the throttle in your chest that happens when you have your first kiss, or when you go on a date, or when you win something that you put your heart into. So this excitement was unparalleled. But not for long... It's too bad the heart is a muscle... Because over time, muscles get stronger and grow, and with that need more strenuous stimulation to achieve the same things. In this case, to produce the same feelings and emotional highs. And while this rebellious streak faded over time, that truth I'd stumbled across never left me. And for the better. It reminds me daily to stay grounded and never let my expectations run a muck. Expectations are never realistic for people with imaginative minds and over active hearts like mine.
Going into freshman year, I had quite frankly gotten tired of being so closed-off and cautious. At that time, I figured if I didn't change things up and carry myself differently, my life would not be anymore memorable than the "wisdom" of a fortune cookie. Or a graduation speech. I mean, the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results, right? And I surely didn't want that. So I switched lanes and let loose. Went out and did things. Which consequently meant that one Friday morn, I found myself surrounded by fellow goons, circled around a coffee table in the bed section of Bed Bath & Beyond, planning the days... "heists". Passers by had no idea they were peering into the heart of a den of thieves when they awkwardly sifted their way past our seating arrangement. After a brief disclaimer if you will, we broke off into groups and combed, if not poached, our way through the entire mall. Vans, Converse, Dick's, Zummiez, Pacsun, Hollister, American Eagle, Macy's, JCPenney,- they didn't know what hit them. We took the lot. Everything from expensive cologne, to full pairs of jeans and headphones. Some for ourselves to wear as trophies, others to sell off at school the following Monday. A true show of cunning and finesse only the likes of Monsieur and Madame Thernardier would truly appreciate ( *cue Master of The House* ). Working in teams to pick out certain pieces and prizes one after another. Greed beat out any amount of time spent feeling abash.
Walking in with nothing but the clothes on our backs and twenty dollars between the five of us, we left with much, much more. Basically, what we did, was we used that initial amount of capital to invest in some small items from stores we knew would offer larger bags. Once those bags were acquired, not only then did we have a sound cover alibi, but we also had somewhere to put all the paraphernalia that wasn't all too obvious. By the moment we stepped foot outside the mall, we had give or take twenty pounds worth of product on each of our persons.
You know... You'd think we'd have felt bad about everything. I mean... We were thieves, lowly shoplifters... But somehow, it all seemed justified. Like as if just knowing the businesses that we stole from were thriving ones somehow testified for itself. Made it okay. Moreover, "the thrill of the hunt" was something I'd never before felt. I was afraid of heights, so I never road roller-coasters. I was afraid of deep, unclear water, so I never swam in anything that wasn't a pool. I was afraid of what people might do under the cover of night, so I barred myself from being out past dusk. But this, this here for whatever reason, was okay because it allowed my heart to pump in a way that it never had before whilst also bypassing the parameters of all my other self-regulations/fears. I had never felt the throttle in your chest that happens when you have your first kiss, or when you go on a date, or when you win something that you put your heart into. So this excitement was unparalleled. But not for long... It's too bad the heart is a muscle... Because over time, muscles get stronger and grow, and with that need more strenuous stimulation to achieve the same things. In this case, to produce the same feelings and emotional highs. And while this rebellious streak faded over time, that truth I'd stumbled across never left me. And for the better. It reminds me daily to stay grounded and never let my expectations run a muck. Expectations are never realistic for people with imaginative minds and over active hearts like mine.
Comments
Post a Comment