s02e06 - take it.
Close your eyes. Open them.
Look in front of you. You see it too. Something you want, within arms reach. Nobody's watching. No guard, no cage, no lock, no key. You look around. Meek little mouse, what are you searching for? Someone to softly coax you forward? Tell you "It's okay, darling". Give you permission? You begin to rationalise. "Someone's just left it there. They'll be coming back for it soon." You sit and wait, deciding to keep an eye on it until the owner comes back.
What was that glimmer in your eye?
Oh. I know. You're not such a good Samaritan after all. I saw it occur to you. What if nobody comes back to claim it?
Only if, though. Like a little girl who has found someone's lost pet, you halfheartedly devote yourself to the mission of finding who it belonged to, putting up flyers on lampposts while there's a tiny, evil part of you that hopes nobody calls the number. You bury that hope and hide it from yourself, but as soon as that phone rings your heart sinks, and you realise you had already begun to imagine a life with the creature.
Stop daydreaming. There's a little sign in front of it now.
"Free to a good home."
Your heart skips a beat. You reach out. … … … … And you falter. Almost every voice inside you is screaming to just take it. Before it's too late. But there's one voice that stalls you.
Are you a good home? One question can spawn a hundred new ones, like roots that dig under your skin and push up the tiles in your driveway. Do I deserve this? Does it deserve me? What do I have to offer? Am I the best person for the job? What are the pros and cons of taking it?
You work yourself into a panic with these cascading questions, occasionally reverting to a short-lived state of "fuck it, I should just do it", before you are paralysed with indecision again.
at this point, it's causing you so much anguish you'd rather be rid of the decision. someone please take it off my hands. make it your problem.
you have dreams where you take it. you take it, and you feel no remorse, no guilt. in these dreams, you ask yourself "Why not me?" instead of "Why me?". You no longer need to rationalise the decision to fucking take it. but then you wake up. and you begin the process anew.
you walk up to it. you reach your arm out to take it. your heart is racing, as if, in the half-second before your finger touches its surface, someone will snatch it away. but they don't.
it's in your arms now. you did it. your heart rate returns to normal. you feel so dazed and dreamy that you barely notice the loud snap above you. the force of the spring sends the enormous metal bar flying. it collides with your body— breaking your neck.
but none of that is real.
i know the future. it's not a trap. it may not be the missing piece to an incomplete life you have made it out to be, but it won't kill you. the universe is not a meritocracy. things don't automatically go to those who deserve it the most. deserving isn't even a metric that can be measured or quantified. things just happen. to whomever, whenever, whyever.
there's nobody around you to listen to you present your case. why you should or should not be trusted with it.
so take it.
or don't.
but if you don't... be prepared to make peace with that.