I don’t really want to write this post. I’m tired, and I’m sore everywhere from a long and angry workout, and even though my last post wasn’t very well written, it was long. I had an adventure. I was a hero. Obviously, I’m dealing with the repercussions. I effectively ended a man’s life that night, and I’m not very happy about how I handled it.
It’s too late to decide to disarm him. Its too late to put a bit more thought into what would happen to a body with that kind of energy transferring into it.
It’s too late to punch him anywhere else. With a frozen target, I didn’t think twice about shooting for the button. I could have broken any bone in his body, but I chose his spine.
He’d had a rough week at work, his fiancé, the sobbing woman, told me. He was stressed out, but didn’t think he was that upset. He pulled a gun. He was going to run from the police. She wished she’d known. She sobbed it over and over, but what has passed is past, and all we have, to a degree that few people understand, this very instant to make our choices.
I don’t know how to atone for my action. I will not make that mistake again. I will not forget to think. I will act deliberately and wisely, and I won’t kill. I don’t want to take lives.
I’m not going to vow that I will never do it again. That would prove me a fool or liar, because we both, dear reader, know that I will.
Can I make right what I’ve broken?
No comments:
Post a Comment