I can feel myself sink deeper into this quicksand of debauchery, I can feel my fingers slip away from the edge, sending me down to the abyss of…wait. I’m torn between some overly melodramatic choice of words. Moral degradation or depravity?
Surely in this condition, having this realization, this enlightenment, I would want to seek the light and pull myself out. Born again, pure, cleansed. But what if I don’t want to get out? What if I like it here? What if it makes me happy? What if I want to live in the dark?
The above sentences are only exaggerated illustrations, of course, because no I’m not doing anything bad, Mom, really! No, seriously. It just occurred to me that, as impartial as I believe I’ve always been, I was still judgmental. I still tried to mold things into the way I thought they should be. Things I don’t even own.
Who am I to judge? Who are you to judge? Who are we to judge?
After all, what we perceive as the lowest low could be someone’s highest high.
That’s why now I’ll say I don’t judge, I just disagree.