Chaos, trouble, that adrenaline rush manifest as a knot in the stomach and endless insomnia, there’s no drug more refined, more addictive, more alluring to me. Still, it seemed to me as a recovering chaos addict, that I had, not conquered the addiction, for that is impossible, but that I could at least tell when a relapse was imminent.
I was wrong.
Freedom, you see, is terrifying, and there is no creature as free as man – no other creature can willy-nilly reach for self-destruction; no other creature can damn itself. We of all creatures have that royal privilege. We will never be freed from our freedom – that is the curse and blessing of fallen man. So here I sit, at 5:40 in the morning, with a mess to clean, and relationships to mend. Here I sit, facing the fact that I do not wish to fall for the sake of some object of desire. No, I wish to fall for its own sake. Put another way, I want to fall so I can fall. Think of it as metaphysical skydiving for infinitely higher stakes.
May the Lord save me from my freedom.