I’m what snotty school children would call a goody two-shoes, adults would call a well-behaved, mature individual, and what people my age who don’t really know me would call a prude. I follow the rules. I conform to what society deems acceptable and am more than happy to do so. But recent life changes and a new inward perspective have got me thinking…
When I was in kindergarten there were these bins filled with different little toys to teach kids about counting, patterns, and matching. One of which contained little erasers shaped like foods or snowflakes. I used to take them.
When I was older I would borrow books from classroom libraries and never return them.
Just recently I’ve started doing things the “well-behaved” me wouldn’t do. Like walking down the center of a road.
Or running around a sketchy part of town just to take a photograph of a downed lamp post.
But all these things, these little rebellions and dangerous acts, aren’t anything really. The eraser stealing was just a little kid thinking the food erasers were cool and wanting to have them. The book stealing never got out of hand, and I always tended to take the more damaged books with broken spines or ripped covers. The road I walked down wasn’t a very busy one. I was only out of my car for two minutes to take the lamp post photo.
But to me, these rebellions make me feel alive, like I’m not just going through life on the safest route. These silly little acts are my subconscious telling me to live a little, do something stupid, take a risk, live.