by David Gladfelter
A hype beast with no loyalty is like a fucking demon.
This is in hindsight, of course. That always bothered me.
What isnt in hindsight.
Ive often thought about using a gun to get what I want.
Its all very nebulous. I cant imagine it becoming concerning.
I dont think I have the, I dont know.
The bravery for it, if that can be the right word for it.
Youd like to think you believe in something enough to do something like that.
Probably not. Maybe. I mean, nobody wants to die.
And the act itself is, of course, not very appealing.
A massacre might never be the right thing to do. Im undecided. Or of two minds.
Theres scale to consider as well.
Im unconvinced more often than not that all actions share an equal weight.
To the extent that Im not sure we should have place to even give weight to a thing at all.
But those times I have felt god, every action major or minor was of significance.
A consideration to the world. All moments with a ring of planned occasions.
An absolute and utterly clear understanding. Not always so pretty, either.
It is, for whatever reason, not a sustainable way to be. You always get, like. I dont know.
Distracted I guess. One way or another you drop the routine, the devotion.
Or like you think you can handle more of the world. That you dont need it as much.
Not doubt so much as ashamed in some way, embarrassed to require this soothing.
Like it comes at a cost or something. It has to get proven to you over and over.
I guess that can be the case with most anything.
Though most things dont leave you ascribing litigation to want.
Justifications for want. Excuses for want. The desire to fit want to a shape.
And most of all to erase whatever thing is there that stops want from being just that.
Like, is there some automate and cruel soul that roils, craving expressions.
And not without intention.
Its not far off to think that changing the world outpaced changing that cruel thing.
And but so what is to be done. What is required.
So yeah, thats what I mean by the bravery for it. Say for instance.
Open fire in a restaurant. Demand to see the basement.
Get stormed by the cops.
And I cry in my truck, as they give pursuit.
And I love my family and I cant stop but wonder how theyll remember me.
Somewhere out there theres a truth. Im not going to find it.
Consequence and removal. Mirth, and the need to recoil.
Hypothetically, of course. I think Im mixing up two different guys who did stuff like this.
You get what I mean though.
Should I just act in love and strive to take care of everyone my life touches. Whatever that means.
How can I reconcile that.
Is not a better use stalking the halls of tyson foods executives homes. Of complete eradication.
To cast fear into the hearts of the enemies of god. Just one little life among many.
Wishful thinking, if not well intended. Nobody wants to die, not even for good.
Its strange to be the last ones. The ones who will have to answer the least for the most.
At a certain point, youre responsible. Youre culpable. We can just as easily throw up our hands.
I dont believe it would be too surprising or out of line. Is there anything but us capable of doing evil.
Soon there will be new refinements in cruelty.
David Gladfelter was born in Gettysburg, PA and now lives with his husband in Detroit. His writing has been published by Bruiser, Apocalypse Confidential, The Pixelated Shroud, Ex-Pat and Back Patio Press. He co-hosts a podcast called response pod. He is working on a long thing. He is 35 years old. He has a high school diploma.