Risking It All

I’ve taken up a pretty bad habit of late. A poten­tially lethal one at that. Like Bear Grylls puts him­self in danger’s way on the Dis­cov­ery Channel’s Man vs. Wild, I have begun to put myself in dan­ger­ous sit­u­a­tions. I dis­re­gard the warn­ing signs over and over again. I just get caught up in the thrill of the hunt and begin to lose all sense of rea­son. Yet unlike Bear, I don’t have the safety ropes and the local guides to help save me.

I can’t help myself as I make my way through the milky abyss, search­ing for these poten­tially deadly trea­sures. I slice and cut through with almost total dis­re­gard for what lies right under­neath the sur­face. I konw that with one wrong move I could be send­ing myself to the hos­pi­tal, yet I press on. Per­haps it’s the risk that attracts me — like a moth danc­ing around a bug-zapping lantern. Or maybe it’s the sweet taste of suc­cess­fully nav­i­gat­ing this treach­er­ous path. What­ever it is, once I start, I am no longer in con­trol. I release myself to the car­nal desire to find new trea­sures. And when I do, the feeling’s amaz­ing. Yet, as quickly as it came, the sat­is­fac­tion dimin­ishes, only increas­ing my resolve to find more. It’s an addic­tion that might just be the end of me.

I really should eat an apple tomor­row night instead of pulling out a pint of Ben and Jerry’s cholesterol-laden Choco­late Chip Cookie Dough ice cream.