I found out last week that I am deathly allergic to my cats. Considering I would give them a kidney should that impossible scenario present itself, I’m pretty upset. They have my heart wrapped around their tiny paws. They are my fuzzbuckets, my little furry love bugs, my fuzztastic felines, my…..you get the point. As I was laying in bed, drugged up on steroids and allergy meds, and pondering the depth of my love for them, I realized something. As humans, we often love the things that hurt us. Our entire race is undeniably drawn to what destroys. Think about it. History is replete with examples of our love affair with things that devastate. Eve ate the apple. Lot chose Sodom and Gomorrah. David craved Bathsheba. More recently, Bill Clinton reached for Monica Lewinsky. Whitney Houston was addicted to drugs. There are infinite examples. People often die because they pursue the things that kill.
Our obsession with disaster doesn’t make much sense to me. We know that something is horrible for us, but we want it anyway. We disregard the danger and long for the drugs or alcohol. I was in a debilitating relationship for quite some time. I know it was slowly killing me inside, but I still wanted that guy. I think this craving for corruption is why our nation lacks integrity.
We want the casual sex, so we ignore the STDs and create avenues to rid ourselves of unwanted pregnancies. Between bites of doughnut, we laugh at the critics who suggest that processed food causes cancer. The fact that dozens before us have died from heroin overdoses don’t stop us from shooting up.
Somehow we have to wake up the part of our brain that refuses to process danger. We have left those particular little grey cells slumber for to long. It should be simple. If it will hurt or kill you, don’t do it.
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