untitled
I killed a snail today. I know what you're thinking, "It's a fucking
snail." But the worst part is that literally moments before I had moved
one out of the way, so as to not get stepped on.
I don't know why but I've always felt bad for those sort of things.
Snails, slugs, pillbugs/potato bugs/rolly-polly's. They're so small and
they just wanna get from one place to another, eat, and bear children,
but they can only move so quickly, and in the process they endanger
their own lives by coming into the open.
Maybe it's my state of mind, maybe I'm crazy.
Maybe I'm trying to get from point A to point B, but I'm a little slower
than most.
2 Comments:
getting stepped on sucks.
That was a very introspective thing of you to say, cousin. Erm, or as my peers like to say, "Whoa, man; that was deep. . ."
Life is about getting to point B from point A, but unlike the little critters that get stepped on or run over every time they venture out into the open to get to where they think they're going, people like you and me have the option of not dying whenever we get stepped on. You'll get to where you're going, dude. I know you will.
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